Twisted Faerie Tales
by Digitallace
Summary: A collection of Drarry fairytales in the twisted tongue of Digitallace. Warnings for Slash and explicit content and adult language and situations.
1. Intro

Twisted Faerie Tales

Summary: A collection of Drarry fairytales in the twisted tongue of Digitallace. Warnings for Slash and explicit content and adult language and situations.

Once upon a time there was an authoress named Alexis, though she was sometimes known throughout the land as Digitallace. She had two great loves in her life, Harry and Draco, and a good fairytale. One day she thought to herself, why not merge the two together and create reinvented fairytales of her own, using her two favorite boys. Her dear friend Gareth suggested an idea that Alexis decided would be the first installment of her collection, but she knew that in time, she would continue to add chapters, each one being a new completed oneshot story of a re-imagined fairytale.

Borrowing a little from everything from Grimm to Disney, she thought that no stone should be left unturned when it came to these tales, and though she had several ideas to start her collection, she posted the following proclamation.

_Attention Drarry Readers,_

_Should any of you have a tale in mind, be it short or long, which you would like told in my wicked tongue, please submit your request. All contact information can be located on my profile, and I'm always up for a challenge.  
_

_Alexis Kemp_

_Digitallace_

And now onto the tales…

Current list of tales include:

Little Red Riding Hood

Cinderella

The Little Mermaid

Sleeping Beauty

Snow White

Next in line:

Rupunzel

Goldilocks

Princess and the Pea

Beauty and the Beast

The Frog Prince


	2. Little Red Riding Hood: Part 1

Little Red Riding Hood

Author's Note: Thanks go out to Laurel for her beta work on this story. This first installment is for Gareth's birthday. (I heart you, Lovie), even though it's a tad late. His challenge: to create a Horror/Romance play on Little Red Riding Hood. To include: Fenrir and a legion of child werewolves, the Quote 'Can I keep you?' from Casper and a dancing elf or leprechaun. I was originally going to try and keep each tale within one chapter, but some of the archives cut you off after so many words and this one went over 14k for a single story alone, so alas I had to divide it into 2 parts.

Assumptions: AU (obviously) Alternate summer after 6th year. A few unsuspecting variables hindered me along the way, but I hope I mastered them all with appropriate explanations and believability.

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_Once upon a time…_

I hated that phrase because it always seemed to be followed by 'happily ever after' at some point and I never found the sentiment to be very realistic. My life was anything but a fairytale, despite how it seemed on the outside.

Born a wealthy pureblood wizard, people often thought my life was rose petals and unicorns, but far from it. My mother was addicted to numbing potions and my father was a cold tyrant. Never had I gotten a lick of love out of either since I stopped being an adorable infant and my mother began to see me as only a nuisance, while my father simply regarded me as a tool to be wielded as he saw fit.

My friends could scarcely even be called by that title; they only tolerated me because of my name and influence. Because they were bred to do so, they all thought ahead to what the Malfoy name might bring them in the future and they were careful to cultivate what they thought to be a lasting relationship with me.

School was a welcome retreat, but over the summer I was lonely and I was bored and I couldn't see a way out of my pathetic life, so when a letter arrived addressed to me from my Grandmother Black, it came as a welcome surprise.

_My dearest Draco, _

_As you might have heard, I've become ill and the incompetent half-blood Healers at St. Mungo's can do nothing to prolong my life any further, which is further testament to how important it is not to sully our bloodlines. Regardless, I have but short time to live and I have bequeathed part of my estate to you. As my favorite grandson, you will inherit half my fortune and half of my home in the Elder Forest; while the rest will go to a boy your age I have taken a considerable interest in. _

_I'd like to see you once more before I pass so that I might turn over the keys to my kingdom in person, so to speak. I know the journey is long, but I estimate that if you leave right away, you should be able to make it here while I'm still lucid. _

_Always remember that you're better than the life you have been given, Draco, and I love you dearly. _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Druella Black_

It was true, I knew only too well of my grandmothers illness and that she was soon to be leaving us, and I was sick over it. I loved her the most of any of my insane family members and I would miss her dearly. Still, a slow smile curled on my face as I thought of being able to tell both my parents to sod off. Maybe this other boy my grandmother left half of the estate to would be agreeable enough to live with. It was certainly a large enough home that it wasn't necessary for our paths to cross often, and if he was my age I probably already knew him through school unless he went to Durmstrang, which I supposed was a possibility. I realized I should have probably been offended that she had left part of her fortune to someone who wasn't even a blood relation, but I couldn't bring myself to be anything but relieved that I could leave Malfoy Manor and my parents behind at last.

I couldn't think of who my grandmother might have taken a liking to in such a way that she'd be willing to leave such a handsome inheritance to him. If it were someone at Hogwarts they would have to be in Slytherin, most of the purebloods were. Perhaps it was Blaise or Theo, I wouldn't mind sharing living quarters with either of them, I was quite used to it after six years at Hogwarts. Maybe I'd be lucky and it would be Victor Krum, he could give me flying lessons and teach me tricks that would allow me to finally best Potter at Quidditch.

She was right about the journey being long though. I had made the trip to her reclusive manor often enough to know that going alone would be both arduous and dangerous. Evil things lurked in the Elder Forest, and Grandmother's home was in the dead center of it. That alone might not be so bad except that the forest itself was what some wizards refer to as a 'dead zone', meaning no wand magic of any kind can be performed there. In truth, the forest simply held a magic of its own and tended to reject human magic, making most witches and wizards avoid the dangers it held, but other magical creatures often found it a welcome haven free of human influence and greed.

It's a three-day flight by broom to the forest edge, where I would have to land and walk the remaining distance. The forest doesn't fair well with flying; there are pockets where the magic of the forest absorbs the magic of the broom, just as it does with wand magic, leaving the broom only useful for sweeping. Many people have attempted to fly over or through the forest and wind up falling to their death or being injured so badly that they wished they'd died. I certainly wouldn't want to be lying lame on the forest floor at night when the werewolves came out.

The walk alone is almost a full week -with a good pace maybe five days. Gran's place is so ancient that all the magic is in tact in her clearing, but powerful wards keep people from Apparating in and out and her fireplace isn't tied to any floo network. I was looking forward to being able to live the life I wanted, away from prying eyes and the judgments of my parents and all their pureblood friends. I'd even be safe from Voldemort in the confines of my grandmother's manor in the middle of that forest. Hardly anyone even knew it was there.

I set to packing at once, stuffing whatever I could quickly grab into a hefty rucksack before shrinking it and packing another. Before long I had three bags overflowing with clothing, supplies, our family's camping gear and anything else I thought I might need for the journey ahead. They were all shrunken and strapped together on my back. Over that I threw a hunter green cloak, thick enough to keep me warm at night and light enough to not slow my pace. I decided to leave a note for my parents instead of telling them I was leaving in person and I wondered how long it would take them to even notice I was missing.

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_I'm leaving, and if I'm lucky you'll never see me again._

_Your Son,_

_Draco_

Simple, curt, to the point, just like my relationship with them, it only seemed appropriate to end things as coldly as they have been between us for as long as I can remember.

With everything in place, I snuck out of my childhood home and set off on my broom due north, ready to begin my life anew.

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The flight went smoothly, but I was already exhausted and it was getting dark as I approached the edge of the forest. I felt it might be wise to set up camp outside the forest instead of inside on this first night, but then again, I might be able to make good headway in the twilight hours before having to settle in for the night. It might shave good portion off of my trip through the woods.

I was conflicted, but in the end I decided I should call it a night outside the wood instead. It would be safer and as soon as my feet touched the ground, fatigue rolled over me like a warm glass of milk and brandy. It wasn't until I cast the Engorgio Charm on my duffle bags that I realized my horrible mistake and lack of planning.

If I shrunk any of my things again, I wouldn't have to access to them in the forest, at least not in their right size and I had little use for a mouse's sweater or a tent that could only give shelter to my foot. Panic set in at my current predicament, but I found some relief in the knowledge that I had chosen not to venture into the forest before setting up camp.

Attempting to calm my nerves, I decided to focus on erecting the tent and preparing a bit of food to keep my energy up. After eating I set about reorganizing my packs. I kept a single change of clothes, enough food to last out the week and the basic camping gear I would need –a sleeping bag and implements to light a fire- and packed it into one bag, which was heavy, but not too much to lug through the woods. It was, however, going to slow me down significantly, but I knew I would just have to accept it because there wasn't much else I could do at this point.

The rest of my things I shrunk as small as they would go and crammed them into the bottom of the other sack, which I placed by my bed before bundling up and climbing into the warm comfort of my sleeping bag. I knew it would be the last comfort I saw for a week so I settled in to milk it for all it was worth.

Morning came too soon, and as the rays of dawn beamed in through the tent flap I gathered my things and departed, shrinking the tent and placing it in a side pocket of my rucksack. Merlin, how I loved magic. I wasn't sure how I was going to live without it for an entire week.

With a deep breath and the promise of a happier life lying on the other side of that trail, I set out, determined to make the most of the adventure that loomed ahead of me. I trudged through the forest for a several hours unerringly, but after time, the shrubbery began closing in on me and the trail became harder to follow. There wasn't a lot of light streaming through the trees, and, even with the sun cresting overhead, it looked like dusk under the thick forest canopy.

Most of the trees were dark and gnarled, twisted unholy looking things that seemed to bend and sway toward my moving form as I made my way along the trail. I already felt tired, hungry and filthy and I had no idea how I was going to muster through four more days of this mess. I used to think people were just being jealous prats when they called me spoiled, but I was starting to understand what they'd meant. Give me a hot bath and a fresh meal any day over this tedious trek.

Every time I'd visited my grandmother in the past, it was always with my parents, and we'd always had at least one house elf with us as well. Elf magic, it seemed, was left virtually untouched by the forest's sapping presence, so they were able to provide the comforts I'd expected on this trip. Unfortunately it would have been too inconspicuous to steal one of the elves, and, seeing as though they all technically belonged to my father, they would be obligated to betray my whereabouts if he summoned them back to him. It was just too risky.

Now I'd be forced to sleep on rough earth, ration out my food and press myself to make the arduous journey in as little time as possible. As the light in the forest dimmed, so did the temperature. Before long I was shivering beneath my robe and casting my gaze suspiciously all around the darkening wood. Every noise caused me to jump; the hooting of an owl, the snapping of a twig, the howling of a distant wolf, all of it made me shiver and shake in my expensive dragon hide boots.

Those same gnarly trees now sought me out, beckoning me to them with their fingered branches. I tucked in as I walked, hunching over and making myself the smallest target possible until I found a clearing where I felt safe enough to pause and sleep for the night.

Moonlight caressed the trunks of the trees encircling the tiny glade making them look silver and otherworldly, but the grass was soft and mossy beneath my feet. I quickly stoked a fire and leaned over it, absorbing its warmth and soon I felt my fingers begin to thaw. I rolled out my sleeping bag and sat atop it as I nibbled on bread and cheese and drank heavily from my thermos. I could hardly believe Muggles did this so often, and for fun no less. To me it was merely a miserable trial before a worthwhile reward.

When I finally extinguished the fire and crawled under my blankets, I realized that the floor that had felt soft under my feet was anything but to my aching back. Sticks prodded me and stones bruised me and it took me ages to fall asleep, but I did, despite the howling wolves that I could swear grew closer as the night wore on.

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Luckily I was still alive and in once piece when I woke up the next morning. I knew this for certain because I could feel every inch of muscle –some I hadn't even known existed- all screaming at me to go back and rest in a proper bed.

After a quick bite, I set out again, this time making better progress than I had the day before. Despite my increasingly heavy bag, I felt more accustomed to the dim light and rough terrain of the forest and easily avoided the underbrush as I made my way toward Grandmother's house.

The forest grew prettier in spots as I walked along; amber, gold and red leaves made some of the trees look more like sophisticated jewelry than overgrown plants. It was a pleasant change from the evil looking trees from the day before. As night grew closer, I began to dread stopping. I couldn't continue too much further because the dark was closing in on me, but the rest I got from sleeping on the floor was so negligible that I'd almost prefer to keep walking rather than waste precious time 'sleeping'.

Begrudgingly, I started looking for a good place to set up camp, but it wasn't moments before my heart gave a jarring leap and my pulse sped up. I wasn't alone. I spotted a crimson flash in the dark ahead and I dodged behind some shrubbery to mask my presence. Peeking through, I saw what looked to be a cloaked person, or at least I assumed it was a person because I couldn't exactly see their face. I was relieved that is wasn't a large magical creature that might view me as some kind of midnight snack, but I was still wary of any other person who chose to wander this God forsaken place.

As they moved further away, I crept closer, trying to keep them in my line of sight so that they couldn't sneak up on me. I was suspicious of who else might be roaming these woods; it wasn't a very friendly place and certainly wasn't used for recreational visits. It seemed as though they were gathering firewood, and sure enough, they soon led me to an elaborate campsite with a full tent and fizzling fire out front. The red-cloaked figure was still wandering the edge of camp with his back to me.

My desperation for comfort outweighed my good sense and I stood up and nearly jogged to the open clearing, prepared to do whatever groveling was necessary to secure a place in the stranger's tent. I no longer cared what this person was here for, only that they had the comforts I couldn't afford to carry with me. However, I no more made it to the dying fire before I was swallowing thickly as I suddenly felt the tip of a wand pressed against my spine.

"Who are you?" the man hissed, and his voice was far too familiar.

"I'd just like a place to sleep," I told him. It couldn't be who I thought, that would have been an impossible coincidence.

"Malfoy?" he snarled and whipped me around to face him, he must have recognized my voice as well. Sure enough, there I stood, staring into the glowing emerald eyes of Harry bloody Potter, bane of my existence. Even so, I wasn't entirely dissatisfied to find him out here. It was nice to see a familiar face, even if that face had a scar on his forehead and soul-searching eyes.

"Why don't you lower your wand, Potter. It's useless here anyway," I mocked.

"Oh? Is that right?" he chimed before flicking his wrist sharply. A jet of red light erupted from the tip of his wand, flew right past my face and splintered a nearby oak. I don't think I'd ever jumped so high, but I felt like a frightened cat leaping out of its skin.

"How the hell did you manage that?" I demanded. "This forest is a dead zone."

Potter merely shrugged and scowled over at me in distaste. "I suppose if I'm the only one with a functioning wand, it'll be you answering the questions. Why are you here?"

I sighed as I realized I was in no position to argue and gave up all hope of making it out of this forest alive. I'd be lucky if I even got out of this clearing if Harry Potter was in charge of it. "I'm visiting my grandmother," I told him, the vaguest possible explanation I could come up with on a moment's notice; he didn't need to know _why_ I was visiting her.

"You're… oh you have got to be joking!" he shouted, startling a nest of birds nearby. They all went flying into the forest like little black shadows, away from the burst of noise and Harry's abrupt and harsh laughter.

"What's so bleeding funny?" I asked, a bit put off regardless of the fact that Potter was wielding a deadly weapon and a fiercely justified grudge against me.

"Of course Druella Black is your grandmother," he ranted, more to himself than to me. "Is this some kind of sick game your family plays? I thought it was odd to be earning some great fortune from a woman I'd never met in my life, but because she was a Black I thought it was legitimate. I thought she was a relative of Sirius."

"She is," I countered, wondering if being alone in the forest had driven Potter mad. He was rambling like a fool. "She's his aunt, but what does that have to do with anything?" I asked, before silencing myself with a gasp.

All the pieces clicked together like the perfect strategy in a game of wizard's chess. Potter was the other boy; the one grandmother had taken a liking to. Why, I couldn't even begin to say, but there it was, my partner in a vast inheritance was also my longest, most vicious rival. Maybe I could buy out his share in the home because I couldn't possibly live with Harry Potter for the rest of my life.

"She's split it between us," I explained. "I didn't know who the other boy was until now, but her entire inheritance now belongs to both of us."

"You let Death Eaters into our school, you tried to kill Dumbledore, you're evil incarnate, Malfoy." Harry hissed, leveling his wand at me again. "Tell me why I shouldn't just cripple you and leave you to the wolves?"

"Because you're better than that." My voice shook as I replied, but I hoped I was right. There was a debating pause, but his eyes shined with anger, as if he wished he could be as cruel as his threats. I for one was glad he wasn't capable of the cruelty I'd seen so many times in my life, and not just because it spared my life in this instance, but because it made him more powerful in his own special way.

"You can have it all," Harry declared, lowering his wand and striding into his tent before angrily closing the fabric flap behind him like he was trying to slam a solid door but didn't quite get the effect he was after.

I quietly snickered at the failed attempt at being overdramatic and followed him inside. The place was roomy, although the color scheme was garish. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers and a warm bed was a warm bed, even if it was a putrid orange. "Potter, you're being ridiculous," I stated upon intruding into his private space. "No one turns down this kind of money. Do you know how many galleons are in her vault, not to mention how much her manor alone is worth?"

"What do you care?" Harry scoffed. "Wouldn't you rather have the whole inheritance rather than split it with me?"

"I would, but half would still be more than I could spend in ten lifetimes," I told him honestly.

"I have enough money, I don't need anymore," Potter replied as he began stuffing his bags. Potter was going to leave and he was going to take his glorious tent and perfectly functioning wand elsewhere –I certainly couldn't have that.

"Fine, if you don't need the inheritance, why did you come?" I asked.

Harry studied me a good long moment before sighing. "I thought I'd like living out here away from everything. I wouldn't be endangering any of my friends and I could lure him out here to me instead of pressing him into battle in the midst of innocent people."

"You'd die if you fought him out here alone," I gasped, not sure why anyone would choose to take on that sick creature, especially without back up.

"It's my destiny to fight him, and perhaps my destiny to die, but I plan to take him with me regardless," Harry told me, his voice unwavering. He'd apparently been planning this for some time now and it shocked me to learn how truly selfless he was. I'd heard rumors about why Harry Potter was so great, his ability to fight Voldemort more than once, his loyalty to his friends, his expert knowledge in Defense Against the Dark Arts, all these things that mattered very little to me. But this, this raw power and willingness to die to save the world from a monster, this was something I couldn't understand… and it fascinated me.

Here I was trying to use this home to hide from my family and their high society, psycho friends, and Potter only wanted it to keep everyone else safe from the danger he would put them in by living amongst them what with Voldemort relentlessly hunting for his head on a platter like he was. It was uncanny, but I think I liked it, and as the heat I felt in the warm tent began to pool in my groin, I realized I liked it a lot. Harry Potter was a true hero and it was turning me on.

Harry pushed back the crimson hood of his cloak and looked at me oddly, his head cocked to one side like a curious animal. "Why are you still here?" he asked softly, his breath hitching as I moved closer to him.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" I asked, trying my best to sound seductive, but it came out more like a quavering plead. I watched him swallow and then his gaze traveled over me as if weighing the pros and cons of it. "You can do as you like in the morning and I won't stop you, but please, can I sleep with you tonight?"

I'm not sure if it was the 'please' or the innuendo that did it, or maybe it was a combination of the two, but he eventually nodded.

"I only have the one bed though, so we'll have to share," he stated matter-of-factly, but I could tell he was gauging my response to that statement.

"We'll be sharing a lot soon," I replied and I realized as I said it that I was making promises. I wondered if I would be able to keep them.

"Right," Harry replied with a nod and a slight grimace.

We sat there and stared at each other for a moment, his jewel toned gaze boring into my own flinty gray, as if searching for the answers to all of life's questions. I wondered if he found what he sought, because I didn't feel as if I could offer him any definite answers as I had a hard enough time on my own. Eventually he looked away, back down to the floor of the tent, whether he'd gotten his answers or not. I blinked, as if coming out of a long sleep and began rummaging in my bag for something to eat. I came up with some dried meats, an apple, a hunk of cheese and some bread. Splitting it up I offered half of it to Harry, who smiled softly and began pulling apart the bread.

I concentrated on my own dry meal, trying not to stare at Potter, even though under this new light and circumstance I found him captivating. Who knew someone like me could ever be attracted to someone like him, but there he was, ruggedly handsome, his red hood thrown back to expose curly obsidian locks, his tongue darting out to fetch a stray crumb from his lips. He was really quite magnificent to look at. When I heard a sharp clearing of someone's throat I realized that though I had tried not to stare at the boy, I had in fact been doing that very thing, and I tried to resist the blush that crept up my cheeks.

Harry didn't seem to notice my blush, however, as he handed me a glass of water he must have just conjured. "Is it poisoned?" I asked, partially teasing.

"Would I tell you if it was?" he answered, his dark eyebrow lifted quizzically into his fringe, looking every bit a Slytherin.

I chuckled darkly and took a long draw from the glass, smiling as it refilled itself and didn't kill me. I was growing quite sleepy, though I didn't think that had anything to do with the water. I yawned, and Harry followed suit, muttering something about 'yawning being contagious'.

"I suppose we should get some sleep, hm?" he suggested, his eyes flicking warily between the bed and I, but I only nodded and stood up, stretching out as I did. It wasn't lost on me that his eyes trailed along my body as I did, lingering on my partial erection. I could no longer deny that the power and confidence Potter exuded aroused me, but what would come of it I couldn't predict.

With a cheeky grin, Harry cast a cleaning charm on me. I felt it glide over my skin and then begin to scratch at me like an exfoliate. "What was that for?" I asked, with my eyebrows knitted into a frown.

"If I'm sharing a bed with you, you'll be clean when you're in it," he commented lightly, obviously quite pleased with himself. "Plus, you smelled dreadful."

"No one asked you to sniff me, Potter," I muttered defensively.

"Couldn't help it," he replied with a chuckle as he pulled off his red-hooded cloak. He started pulling off his jumper and then paused, his smile fading abruptly as he apparently realized he was about to undress in front of me. The last thing I wanted him to do was stop, so I unclasped my own cloak to encourage him, folded it neatly and placed it to the side. Once finished, I looked across the bed at him expectantly, my eyes silently telling him 'your turn'.

He seemed to understand and tugged the jumper over his head and letting it fall into a heap with his cloak –so messy, didn't anyone teach him how to treat his clothing? I followed suit, removing my own shirt before drinking in his exposed chest. Quidditch had done magnificent things to him. He wasn't some hulking muscle bound giant, but he was taught and lean; his hipbones jutting out slightly above the wait of his denims.

His gaze told me he was equally impressed with what he saw in me, the amused twinkle in his eyes growing hungry. I resisted licking my lips as he reached for the fly of his denims and struggled to free himself of the tight material. I matched his movements, although far less clumsily, and soon we were both down to our boxers, his a soft black cotton, and mine a shiny green silk.

I waited, watching his twitching fingers as he obviously thought of removing more, but instead he quickly slipped under the covers on his side of the bed, so I did the same on my side, though I couldn't hide my smirk as I thought of how shocked he'd be if I had removed my own underwear before hopping in beside him. The surprised look on his face was even funny in my imagination.

With a flick of his wand, Harry extinguished the lights and set some decent wards around the tent. Again, I was impressed how easily a boy who hadn't even grown up with magic could wield such spells in a place where even my father couldn't cast a single Charm. I felt him shift around beside me, as if looking for a comfortable position. His hand accidentally grazed my thigh in his restlessness, but he instantly pulled it back as if I'd burned him. Eventually he turned away from me and settled on his side and when I heard his breathing shift in to a deeper cadence, I reached out to touch his exposed side.

His breath hitched the moment my fingertips grazed his heated flesh, even though it was a completely innocent touch. I let them linger there on his waist, waiting to see if he would shout or bat me away, but he remained perfectly still except for his ribcage moving up and down with every new bout of air he gulped down.

I didn't know what had come over me, it wasn't like me at all to try and silently claim someone in the dark, but my body stirred in ways I'd never felt before when I thought of Harry lying so close and there was no one around to stop me but him –and he hadn't pried me off yet. I'd never been intimate with anyone before, and I wasn't even sure what I was expecting from this unlikely encounter, but I knew that I wanted to press my luck and see what I could elicit from the Gryffindor who was pretending to sleep beside me.

I smiled to myself as I wondered what in the world must have been going through his mind in that moment, having his most hated rival attempting to seduce him in the middle of the woods. When I moved my hand again, it was to trail it up his chest, roving blindly across the taught skin until I felt him shiver and break his practiced calm. He shifted slightly, but neither did he move further away or closer to where I laid, but I followed him, wiggling in behind him so that my bare chest was pressed fully against his back.

His breathing halted altogether at that movement and I waited to see if it would resume or if I'd scared him to death. "Malfoy," he whispered, his voice almost squeaky in the dark. "What are you doing?"

Despite my own nerves, I wanted to laugh, or tell him it was quite obvious what I was doing, but I simply snuggled in behind him, wrapping my arm more tightly around his waist. "I'm cold," I lied, hoping he might take the hint and either offer to warm me or tell me to sod off.

"You don't feel cold," he breathed, calling me out on my fib. He didn't give me time to reply before he shifted again. I thought at first he was moving away, but he only turned in my grip so that he was facing me instead and he shivered again when I let my hands roam up and down his spine.

"Are _you_ cold?" I asked cheekily in response to his reaction to my touch, but he just stared at me.

"No," he whispered at last. "I'm not."

Our faces were only inches apart, I could feel his breath drift over me in hot waves. I wanted to kiss him so badly, and as a Malfoy, I was used to getting what I wanted, only I knew I couldn't brazenly steal it, I had to coax it gently from the wide-eyed boy in my arms. I leaned in and watched his eyelids flutter closed as if anticipating my lips against his, but I veered away and pressed a kiss to his forehead, just beside his famous scar.

When his eyes opened, they were shining like polished gems, so I leaned in again, pressing another kiss to his cheekbone. I felt him lean into me, and I was tempted to show him how aroused I was, but I kept my groin a safe distance away from his so as not to spook the boy. I wanted him, but I had no idea how far his experimenting mood would allow him to go tonight, especially when I wasn't sure how far I would be willing to go or even what I was doing.

My next kiss was pressed at the corner of his mouth, so close to those full lips that I could almost taste them and my heart skipped when he turned his face into me, almost catching my lips before I backed off again. "Is this okay?" I asked, and his eyes were already heavily lidded.

"Yes." His answer came in a deep, throaty voice and my cock twitched at the sound.

Part of me wanted to crash against him, pull his lips to mine and devour him whole, but I quite enjoyed our slow and teasing pace as well: it was like a game of innocent foreplay that was already driving me mad with desire. So instead, I darted my tongue out to slowly caress his bottom lip, my eyes closing at the soft moan that met my ears.

His arm slinked around my waist and pulled me into him and I obliged, warily waiting for his reaction when we were pressed fully together. I had no reason to worry though, my own erection was met with his and we both gasped lightly when they rubbed together through the thin layers of material that separated them.

Harry was on me then, apparently forgoing the slow and steady pace we'd set for a faster and fumbling approach. He kissed me and his lips were insistent, matched only by my own yearning as I kissed him back. Harry tasted smoky and sweet, his tongue dancing with mine as we both fought for dominance of the kiss. His hands trailed up my back and fanned in my hair as my own clutched desperately at his hips to keep him locked in place against me. I could feel him rut against me, both of us gasping at the friction created between our bodies as our erections rubbed together behind thin pieces of fabric. I was getting close; I could feel the tension build inside of me like a weak dam holding back too much water. My fingers dug into him sharply, ready to make that final stroke but he suddenly pushed me away.

When we broke apart, he stared at me, his eyes going from hungry to confused in a matter of seconds before he pulled away from me, scrambling for the edge of the bed where he perched and just stared at the floor. He turned in such a manner that the blankets and shadows hid most of his body from me and I wondered what had gone wrong. "Harry," I breathed, but apparently that was not what he wanted to hear, because he winced and gritted his teeth as if his name were offensive coming from my lips.

"Don't," he whispered when I moved closer. I wanted to take his hand, pull him back to me, but he wanted none of that. "I can't do this," he said at last, and his voice held finality within its tone.

"What did I do?" I hated how weak and pleading I sounded, but I had been caught up in him, his power, his heat, and I didn't want to part with that.

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "I just… I don't care about you, Malfoy. I can't, my first… I can't. Not with you," he stammered, not making any sense to me at all.

I knew he didn't care about me, how could he? I was the son of a Death Eater, I was hurtful and mean to his friends because of my own jealous rage that he wasn't counted among mine, and I had made all the wrong choices in life. I knew that, No one knew it better than me. But hearing him say it -_'I don't care about you, Malfoy' _- and the gentle tone he used as if trying to spare my feelings, it felt like a sharp slap to the face and I could no longer look at him.

"I think I should sleep over here on the floor," I muttered, slipping my trousers and jumper back on so that I could better hide from his knowing gaze.

"You don't have to do that," he told me. "The bed is large enough for us both, just…"

"Just don't touch you?" I finished for him and he nodded weakly.

"I can better keep that promise from down here," I told him and snatched up the rucksack that held my sleeping bag. I rolled it out quickly, trying to ignore the fact that he was watching my every move, and I slipped in, already colder than I had been in Harry's bed, even with all the extra clothing on.

I had known that there was a large chance of being rejected the first time I placed my fingers on his naked flesh, but it had still come as a shock to me when it happened. It seemed as though he was just as attracted to me, but apparently that wasn't enough. I didn't sleep well that night, but not because of the hard ground this time –though that certainly didn't help. I couldn't relax enough to drift off, not when I knew he was so close to me. Instead, I just stared up at the ceiling of the brightly colored tent and wondered what Harry was thinking about, I knew he laid awake too because he didn't even bother pretending to sleep this time.

An energetic lot we were going to be come morning.

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Author's Note: So, here ends part 1. What do we think so far?


	3. Little Red Riding Hood: Part 2

Author's Note: Okay, so here is the next and final installment of the overly long Little Red Riding Hood tale. Thanks again to Laurel for being my beta for this story and thanks to Gareth for requesting it.

Little Red Riding Hood: Part 2

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I got up before Harry, who had apparently dozed off at some point in the night after all. I grabbed my things and debated setting out on the next day's journey to Grandma's house without him, but in the end I figured that would have been rude after his begrudging hospitality. Even if I had to continue sleeping on the ground, at least I had his roof and wards to help keep me safe. The deeper we got into the woods the more perilous it would become.

Still, the company would be awkward at best and I worried about having to be alone with him for several days over our journey. I should have just kept my hands to myself: if I had I wouldn't be having this problem now. As I pulled on a change of clothes from the bags Harry had been kind enough to enlarge for me the night before, I heard Harry stir in his sleep.

I went over and shook him lightly, trying to wake him up. "Draco," he groaned and my heart clenched at the way he used my name like it was an exotic fruit he'd just bitten into.

"I'm here," I told him, careful not to get too close. He woke up with a start and I moved away, turning back to my bags.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, his tone a bit panicked.

"Not without you," I told him honestly. "I was just pulling out some breakfast."

"Oh." I was pleased to hear the relief in his voice and wondered briefly what it was he had been dreaming about before I woke him, not that it mattered given our already tenuous relationship. I watched him dress quickly out of the corner of my eye, throwing the red cloak over him last before taking a seat across from me. I offered him up half of what I'd pulled out of my bag and he accepted it, tearing off a piece of cheese and popping it into his mouth. "About last night," he began carefully, but I shook my head.

"I'd rather just forget it," I muttered. "I heard you loud and clear."

"I don't think you did," he said, looking both hurt and slightly defensive. "I didn't mean to-"

"Can we just drop it, please?" I asked, too tired to rehash it all over again. I'd done enough of that the night before when I should have been sleeping.

Harry bit sharply into his bottom lip as if physically halting himself from saying anything more. "Fine," he replied at last before slumping his shoulders in defeat. We finished eating and then hurriedly packed to get on our way.

Judging by what I could see of the sun I estimated it was already after eight in the morning, so we had a lot of ground to cover before we could set up camp again. We remained silent in our walk at first, but Harry didn't seem to like it that way. "So, what's your grandmother like?" he asked me out of the blue.

"She's nice enough," I replied. "She's my favorite relative even if she is a bit off."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Well, she's not as bad as father, but she still has this notion that purebloods are better than everyone else," I muttered.

A harsh laugh escaped his lips and he looked over at me with narrowed eyes. "Don't you think the same thing?"

"Not anymore," I answered vaguely.

"Since when?" he scoffed, clearly thinking I was the same person he'd met in Madam Malkin's before first year. I hated to break it to him that I'd been slowly but surely parting myself with that arrogant boy since fifth year and I'd all but eradicated that side of me when I stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower with my wand leveled at Albus Dumbledore.

It was a telling thing for me to figure out that I didn't have it within me to commit murder. At that point I knew it would only be a matter of time before my father or the Dark Lord discovered what I thought at the time to be a weakness, and come after me. It was a miracle that Severus had come along and done the deed for me so that no one would know how terrible I felt just threatening the man's life.

"Awhile," I answered at last, trying to keep things light. I didn't need Harry's pity or his ill given comfort.

"So, you no longer think you're better than me?" he prodded, his voice teasing now as if trying to egg me on.

"I'm better than you at Potions, and probably Transfiguration, too," I told him. "But probably not much else," I admitted as an afterthought. He could do what he liked with the knowledge and I was trying not to care that he saw me in a poor light. It was my own fault after all.

"So, you admit that I'm a better Seeker," he goaded, a smile on his face that I wanted to wipe off with my lips.

"For now, but just you wait, Potter. I'll beat you before long," I boasted. I would to; I was practicing on every chance I got to be faster and smoother than him.

"There is only one year left," he reminded me, bringing me back down to Earth.

"I suppose I'll have to work harder then," I whispered, more to myself than to Harry.

"There is no way you'll beat me this year," he replied. "You'll be begging for a rematch and then I'll have to meet up with you afterward and beat you again."

"I think it'll be you begging me for a rematch," I countered.

"Impossible," he chimed in a singsong voice, but his face was all smiles.

"Maybe we can have a little game when we get to the house then," I suggested with a smirk. Maybe I was already good enough to beat him, but even if I wasn't it would still be fun to fly with him again.

"I'd like that," he replied, and I could tell by the flush of his cheeks that he was being honest and that it embarrassed him to be getting along with me.

We were silent again after that, as we trudged along in the underbrush. I broke the silence this time though. "I half expected to see Weasley and Granger tagging along," I remarked. "I'm surprised they let you out of their sight for this long."

"They don't know where I am," Harry admitted. "I couldn't chance them coming to find me."

"Ginny's the only one who even knew I'd left, and that's only because she caught me packing," he muttered. "She promised to keep it a secret long enough for me to escape and get a head start."

The girlfriend. That's right, no wonder he hadn't wanted to be with me the night before. He didn't want to cheat on the She-Weasel. "You two still dating then?" I asked, secretly hoping he didn't answer. I didn't need to hear about their escapades.

"Me and Gin?" he balked. "No, not since the funeral." I knew which funeral he was talking about without having to ask. "I sort of… never mind," he muttered.

"What?" I demanded. "Oh, come on. You can't just act like you're going to give me juicy gossip and then falter."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "You sound like Hermione."

I cringed and then tried to shake it off. "I suppose there are worse people to sound like than Granger," I conceded and he looked at me sharply, his eyebrow raised in confusion. "So blab."

He took a deep breath and then muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'I can't believe I'm telling you this', before proceeding. "I sort of used the war as an excuse to break up with her."

"Gasp!" I said aloud with undeniable sarcasm, making him roll his eyes. "You might be the Gryffindor Golden Boy but you _are_ allowed to fib from time to time, especially if you're only trying to protect someone else's feelings; after all, what's more Gryffindor than that?"

"I know," he huffed. "I just feel bad because once this is all over she's expecting us to get back together."

"And you're not," I clarified.

"Definitely not," he replied firmly.

"Why?" I asked, honestly curious. "She seems nice enough. For a Weasley," I amended. I might have turned over a new leaf but that leaf still had no warm and fuzzy feelings of the ginger persuasion.

Harry just chuckled and swatted my arm playfully. "She is nice, she's just not… I don't know. Right for me," he answered thoughtfully.

"Because you're into men," I teased and then regretted it the moment I did. It was going to bring up memories of last night and land us back in the thick of awkwardness again when we'd finally pulled out of it.

"Exactly," he replied, surprising me. He seemed to be accepting of it when I was still reeling from the fact that I found Harry attractive. It wasn't the fact that Harry was of the male persuasion that had me reeling, more the fact that it was Harry bloody Potter of all people, though, the fact that he was also a boy didn't help me feel any more confident.

"How, I mean, why… er…" I stammered, glancing at him and willing him to understand my meaning. Why did I constantly lose myself around him?

Still, he didn't disappoint. He just smiled weakly and apparently knew what I was trying to ask, even though I didn't quite know myself. "I've known for a little while."

"Since when?" I asked, utterly astonished. I had assumed he'd been with the She-Weasel, but I hadn't thought Harry had been with another boy before.

"Since I realized I didn't really like snogging Ginny as much as I probably should as a hormonal teenage boy," he admitted. "Oh, and I'll kill you violently if you spill a word of this to anyone."

I chuckled and gestured around the empty forest. "Who would I tell?"

"I mean afterward, of course," he said, rolling his eyes before resuming his story. "She begged me to go further than snogging, but I didn't want to. I wasn't attracted to her that way after all."

"So, you two never…" I asked, my voice trailing off.

He made a face of mild disgust and shook his head. "No."

I couldn't have been more shocked by his answer and at the same time more relieved than I had expected. "Who was the boy then?"

"Pardon?" he asked, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Who was the boy you left your girlfriend for?" I clarified.

"No one!" he nearly shouted. "I didn't leave her because of any one boy. I left her because I found all of them more attractive than her."

"All of them?" I asked skeptically.

"Well, not all of them, no," he laughed.

"You've never been with anyone?" I asked, surprised only because I would have assumed the Hero of the Wizarding World would have had no problems getting laid.

"That's what I was trying to tell you last night," he replied meekly, looking as if he wanted to change the subject.

So, Harry Potter was a virgin, just like me. Who would've guessed? Still, Harry looked uncomfortable, so I changed the subject for him… to something potentially more uncomfortable. "Whose face is it you wank to then if there is no boyfriend?"

His mouth gaped open as if he couldn't believe what I'd just asked him. Well, he'd better believe it because I wanted to know who I was up against. I already knew I was out of the running, but at least if I discovered he preferred fat hairy men or people with large bulbous noses I could rest easy knowing I was just too good looking for him.

"I'm not telling you that," he stated plainly when I didn't let up.

"Oh, come on," I goaded, but he didn't get a chance to respond before we both heard a vicious snarl from nearby and leapt together, back-to-back, watching the forest all around us. "You heard that right?" I confirmed in a soft whisper. It was getting to be dusk and I knew all the bad things came out at night to eat.

"What do you suppose it was?" he asked me. Somehow my hand had ended up within his, who grabbed whom I didn't know.

"Werewolf," I stated. "I know the sound all too well. One of Voldemort's favorite threats is werewolf attack."

"I remember," Harry breathed, his fingers lacing through mine.

"Why did you have to go and wear a bright red hood," I chastised. "We'll never be able to hide now."

"Go hide on your own if you're so worried about it," he hissed, but his hand didn't release mine and I made no move to leave either.

With his free hand, Harry took his wand and cast a Disillusionment Charm over us. I could feel it breaking like a runny egg over our heads. Not a second too soon, either, because just as he did, the wolf came into sight. He was unmistakable even in the waning sunlight, his fur mottled and filthy. "Fenrir," I whispered, but Harry squeezed my hand to remind me to be quiet.

The beast sniffed the air and moved toward where we stood, exposed but for a Charm that wouldn't allow him to see us unless he touched us. It wasn't looking to promising that we would make it out of this alive. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry raise his wand and level it at the monster. I would have cheered him on if not for the fact that I was trying to stay quiet. 'Kill him, kill him before he kills us', I silently pleaded.

It was then that he noticed a scuffle behind him and our attention was pulled toward a pack of tiny wolves trailing behind Fenrir. They ranged in size from that of a large cat to about half Fenrir's size and I knew at once what they were.

As a child, instead of cautionary tales about the boogieman to keep me in line, I heard tales about Fenrir Greyback. "Best be a good little boy," Mother would say, "or Fenrir Greyback will bite you and make you part of his army of children werewolves."

I shuddered beside Harry and hoped the pack of wolves would move on. I could see Harry falter, as he must have guessed on his own what those little wolves were. Greyback continued along the trail but one of the smaller wolves must have caught our scent because he suddenly turned from the group and came right for us.

His pointed teeth were bared and that little orange wolf was probably the most frightening thing I had ever seen. I'd always had a secret terror about werewolves, probably from my family conditioning me all my life to fear them. Part of me knew it was unwarranted, and I might have gotten over it by now had I not met Greyback in the flesh. To me, that beast was more fearsome than Voldemort ever could be. Even the child wolf terrified me. Not only could a single scratch from those small talons make us both werewolves for the rest of our lives, but all the little brat had to do was touch us and we'd be exposed to Fenrir.

Harry cast a series of silent spells in quick succession and I had no clue what he was doing, but the wolf suddenly seemed confused and began sniffing the ground we'd just walked on and tried to pick up our scent again. I'd never been so thankful to have Harry Potter on my side as I had been in that moment. Had I been out here alone I would have been dead meat by now, literally.

As we watched the tiny wolf lift its nose to the air and meander around the path we'd recently taken, we had foolishly lost sight of Fenrir. When we heard a low snarl right beside us my heart caught in my throat and I couldn't breathe as my eyes flicked to the side and I saw Fenrir stalking us in my peripheral vision. Ever the star Seeker, Harry reacted faster than I thought possible, throwing me out of the way as he faced Fenrir alone.

They circled one another as I looked on, eyes narrowed dangerously as they danced. Harry's wand was leveled on the wolf's chest, and the baby wolves were all moving toward me looking hungry, which I didn't care for.

"Your wand won't work here, Potter," the man growled, his tone ominous and taunting.

"How much are you willing to wager?" Harry spat. "Your life?"

Fenrir's yellowed eyes seemed to appraise Harry as he stalked him, snapping his filthy nails together, readying his pounce. "You're bluffing."

"We're just trying to get through the woods," Harry told him. "Just let us go and no harm will come to you."

Greyback seemed to find this a humorous statement and guffawed in his raspy voice. "Harm me? Do you really think you can harm me with that useless piece of wood?"

The smaller wolves were closing in on me, surrounding where I stood, each of them eyeing me like I was their first meal for weeks, and perhaps I would be. "Harry," I whispered, and he acknowledged my predicament with a slight nod without looking away from his quarry.

A blast erupted, followed by a snarling howl and I was too busy watching the other wolves to see what Harry had done. The smaller werewolves went to their master's side and Harry grabbed my hand. "Run!" he shouted fiercely and I obeyed at once.

I don't know how long we ran for, but it was long past dark before we stopped. I leaned against a tree, my chest heaved for air and my legs were sorer than they had ever been. Harry looked in a similar state, but he held it better, looking far calmer than I felt.

"Thank you," I rasped when I could breathe well enough to talk.

"You would have done the same for me," he responded as he set up his tent.

"The problem is I couldn't have, so thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you back there," I told him honestly.

"You would have been eaten," Harry replied and looked suitably guilty when I shuddered.

"Get inside," he ordered and I did, but Harry didn't follow me right away. I could vaguely hear him outside casting very powerful wards around our tent and I hoped it was enough. I had food out by the time he made it in. He looked distracted as he sifted through his own bag but then a look of triumph blossomed on that face and he pulled out a shiny orange parcel.

"Dessert," he explained and I shot him a soft smile as he broke the Pumpkin Pasty in half and offered it to me. "I think it's warranted after that narrow escape."

"What did you do to him?" I asked. I hadn't stuck around to see for myself.

"Remember what I did to you last year?" he whispered, his face torn as if it had been me who had hit him with the Sectumsempra curse.

"How could I forget?" I muttered. "I still have a scar."

He winced and nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I've been thinking about that all day," he whispered.

"Is it that horrid?" I asked, going on the defense. "Is that why you threw me out of bed last night?"

"No!" he shouted, looking taken aback. "And I didn't throw you out of bed," he huffed as an afterthought. "Last night… I just couldn't."

"Right. Because you don't care about me," I grumbled, pulling my knees up to my chest and poking at the bit of bread I hadn't eaten yet.

Harry sighed and fell where he sat, his back against the floor and his gaze at the ceiling. "I told you that you didn't understand what I meant."

"Then explain it to me properly," I demanded.

Harry looked over at me, and I'm not sure what he saw, but whatever it was softened his gaze. "I'm a virgin, Malfoy. It might sound girlish or trite, but I want my first time to be with someone who loves me and that I love back," he sighed. "If I had let myself go much further with you last night, I wouldn't have been able to stop."

My heart rate sped up without my permission and I just sat there for a moment trying to absorb what he'd said. I had been an arse last night, assuming I could have a casual fling with the Boy-Who-Lived just because I found him attractive and vice versa. I was a virgin too, but I didn't hold such high values on the fact as Harry apparently did.

"So, it's not that I don't care about you. It was wrong of me to say that. It's just…" he continued but his voice trailed off at the end.

"You're not in love with me," I finished.

He bit roughly into his bottom lip, and refrained from answering. "I think we'll be safe in here," he mentioned, changing the subject.

"I hope so." I didn't think Fenrir would give up so easily, but if Harry hurt him badly enough, he might at least be out of commission until morning, and then it would be harder to corner us than it had been this evening.

Lost in the horror show that had been my life only moments ago, I didn't notice Harry shedding his clothing. When I looked up he was climbing into his bed, I decided there was no point staying up any longer if he wasn't, so I rummaged in my own sack for my sleeping bag.

"Could I persuade you to sleep up here tonight?" Harry asked unsteadily, obviously shaken by the earlier events. I guessed he was dwelling on what had just happened in our shared silence as well. As much as I wanted to reject him and keep a safe distance away, I couldn't say no to those pleading emerald eyes.

Without a word I shoved the sleeping bag aside and walked over to where he sat looking anxious. When I climbed into bed beside him, he snuggled up against me, as if clinging to me for warmth, but I could tell it was more than that. His body trembled slightly so I held him close, my fingers trailing through his ebony locks and we drifted to sleep that way, curled around one another in friendly safety. As I slowly slipped into unconsciousness I wondered if half of Harry's reasoning wasn't wrong after all. Perhaps I was more in love with the courageous Gryffindor than I had once thought possible.

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In the morning we both felt a lot safer than we had last night, and we had made a lot of headway the day before, especially after out close encounter of the furry kind. I could tell Harry was still keeping a close eye on our surroundings though, and I was glad he was. Neither of us wanted to get caught off guard again. As we walked, we made more small talk. Harry told me about his life with the Dursleys and told him about my drone-like existence at home. It seemed the more we talked the more we had in common.

"Maybe you killed him," I reasoned after it started getting dark and there was still no sign of Fenrir or his miniature army.

"I doubt it," Harry muttered darkly, scanning the tree line once more. That time we both saw something move and we stopped at once, clinging to one another as we had the day before.

Carefully he raised his wand and aimed it at the bush we'd seen shake and shift. Just when it looked like Harry was going to send a harmful spell into the offending shrub, it moved again, and this time a small little man in a sharp green suit danced out. My eyes went wide and it seemed Harry stood just as dumbfounded beside me.

The little man stood no higher than my knee, and that included the tall hat he wore, which meant he was really quite tiny indeed. I had no idea they even made such detailed suits for such a miniscule person, but I decided they must, because there he was, wearing pressed green trousers, a lighter green shirt with both a vest and a jacket with tails. It was the most peculiar thing.

"Who are you?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"More importantly, _what_ are you?" I added. I had a hunch what he might be, but I'd never seen one in person.

"I'm a gold keeper, My Lad," he replied with a wide grin, but Harry just looked confused.

"A leprechaun," I whispered to Harry, who looked even more confused. "You know, they live at the end of rainbows, they-" I started but Harry cut me off with a sharp look.

"I know what a leprechaun is, I just didn't think they were real," he stated plainly.

"Did you think magic and unicorns and house elves were real before you found out about _them_?" I asked, even though I had no idea what it might be like to _not _know that those things were real, I didn't know that for Muggle children those things were 'myth'.

"Well, no," he reasoned. "So, is it good?" he asked me with a nod of his head to the little man.

"I'm good so long as you don't touch my gold," the leprechaun replied, answering the question instead of me.

"Have you seen any werewolves come through here recently?" Harry asked him directly.

The little man seemed to think on it, and eventually shook his head. "Not since last night. A large one, followed by some smaller ones, made their way around my land late last night, but I paid them no mind. They wouldn't be the first of their kind to tromp through here."

"Could you tell which way they were headed?" I asked, realizing I hadn't released Harry's hand yet when he squeezed mine.

"North," the little man replied without hesitation.

Panic set in at his words, and I hoped I was wrong, I hoped that the werewolf wasn't heading to my grandmother's house. Harry looked over at me knowingly and I could tell he had the same thing in mind. Fenrir knew where they were headed and was trying to beat them there.

It was already growing too late to continue, they wouldn't be able to see where they were going for too much longer. "Do you mind if we set up camp on your land?" I asked, remembering the way the leprechaun had worded it.

"Not at all, but I can provide you with better," he stated with a grin and motioned for us to follow him.

Harry and I shared a silent conversation hoping the little man didn't notice. I mouthed at Harry, silently asking him if we should go and he merely shrugged as if to indicate that he didn't know either. Without any real reason _not_ to follow –these creatures were not known to be dangerous unless you tried to steal from them- we accompanied the leprechaun further into the wood. Darkness settled over us as we walked and we were ready to give up and set up Harry's tent where we stood when we spotted twin amber lights hovering in the distance and realized the man was taking us to his home.

It was a squat cottage built into the trunk of an oversized tree. The thatched roof blended up and into the leaves of the canopy and a door that perhaps came up to my shoulders stood in the center of the home.

"Will we fit?" I asked and the leprechaun simply rolled his eyes and summoned us into the house.

Harry shrugged again and we ducked through the door into the well-lit warmth of a cavernous room. The ceilings were plenty high for us to stand up properly and there was a remarkable amount of space despite the small stature of the home from the outside.

After scanning the home, we looked back to our host and watched in astonishment as the air shimmered around him as if he were wearing a glamour. When the shimmering faded, we saw that the leprechaun was taller than us… and slightly overweight. "The guest rooms are in the back," he told us, pointing down a long hallway as if it was commonplace for a man to shift sizes so suddenly.

"Er, thanks," Harry muttered and pulled me along down the corridor. There were four doors, each of them open to reveal quaint bedrooms. I took the first on the right and Harry followed me inside. I looked at him oddly but he didn't seem to understand.

"We can finally have separate rooms and you want to share with me?" I asked.

"Well… what if he's mad? I can't protect you if I'm in another room," he reasoned.

"Right," I huffed, not buying it. Why Harry couldn't just admit that he fancied me was beyond my grasp. His determination to stay close to me, but not too close, was a true test of my self-control and I didn't know how long I would last. Damn Harry and his mission to drive me mad with desire. "Well, what if I don't need your protection."

His eyes went wide with hurt and he slunk out of the room without another word. I felt dreadful the moment he left. What was I thinking? He'd been so kind and generous with me so far and here I was being a prat because I was falling in love with him and he wasn't doing the same with me.

I heard him open the door directly across from me and I debated going over there and sorting things out, but I decided against it. We were both tired and cranky from walking so far today and on edge from the attack last night. Tomorrow would be a new day and I could apologize then. We covered enough ground that we would probably be reaching my grandmother's house in the evening tomorrow.

The bed was so soft and downy that I sunk into it and fell instantly asleep with dreams of Harry occupying my mind. We danced under the stars in a golden glade, both wearing flowing robes of pristine white. Harry held me close, his warmth radiating through me as we floated on the air. "Can I keep you?" he whispered against my ear and I leaned in to kiss him.

I woke up soon after that, the memory still keeping me warm and I wished I had gotten Harry to stay with me after all; it would have been nice to wake up in his arms. Dressing as quickly as I could, I bolted over to the other room, apologies pouring out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to upset you last night." I declared as I entered his room, but when I went to the bed, I found it quite empty. I panicked for a moment, thinking he had left me here, but then I reasoned with myself that I'd slept in later than usual due to a rather nice dream and he was probably waiting for me in the main living area.

The only one I saw out there though was the leprechaun. "Where is Harry?" I asked.

"Your friend?" he replied and I nodded briskly. "Said he'd meet you up at your grandmother's."

I froze in place, my mind reeling. How could he go up there alone? He knew just as well as I did that Fenrir was probably waiting for us, and if he captured Harry he'd surely take him straight to Voldemort. Once on my grandmother's property both our wands would be functional and we could put up a better fight.

"Damn that foolish Gryffindor!" I shouted and ran out the door, bidding a hasty farewell to our gracious host.

I'd never run so fast in all my life as I did to try and catch up to Harry before he reached my grandmother's manor. I had no idea how much time he had on me, and I never caught up with him, and by the time I got to my Grandmother's manor, the sun was already setting over the horizon. I walked up the wide lawn and the front door opened for me automatically. Once inside the foyer, I threw my bags aside and gave an experimental flick of my wand, grinning when I saw the hawthorn flare to life. Taking a deep breath, I wandered into the manor, checking for any signs of Harry's presence. When I reached the east wing, I saw a light on at the end of the hall. "Harry?" I called, but I got no answer.

"Grandmother?" I tried and this time I got an answer.

"In here, Deary," Cracked an aged voice as I walked into the dimly lit bedroom. It was sparsely furnished, but there was a large four-poster bed at one end of the room with the curtains mostly drawn.

"Are you in here Grandma?" I asked, carefully walking closer. My heart was thumping as I approached the bed. I could see her silhouette from the angle I stood but not much more. "My, Grandmother, what big eyes you have," I marveled. I hadn't remembered her looking quote so wide-eyed the last time I'd visited.

"All the better to see you with, My Dear," she replied in a sickly manner; obviously she was not at all well. "Come closer so that I may look upon my handsome boy."

"And my, Grandmother, what large ears you have," I mentioned.

"All the better to hear you with, My Dear," she replied. "Do come closer so that I may listen to stories of your journey."

I was almost to the bed when I saw another form on the bed squirming and the light caught a spark of emerald green. It was Harry, and it was not, of course, my grandmother holding him hostage.

"My, Grandmother. What big teeth you have," I mentioned, playing along as I tightened my grip on my wand.

"All the better to EAT you with, My Dear!" the werewolf snarled as he pulled back the curtains to reveal that he held a struggling Harry with one claw poised menacingly threatening to cut his throat. His brilliant red cloak stood out in harsh relief against Fenrir's mangy gray fur, but the crimson color simply reminded me of the blood I would soon see pouring from Harry's elegant throat if I didn't do something quickly.

A flash of fear coursed through my body as the mental image of Harry bleeding out while I watched on ran rampant through my mind. I didn't know what to do; I didn't know how I could save him. Harry was the strong one, not me!

Harry was being held against Fenrir in such a way that any spell I attempted had to be precise or else it would surely hit the raven-haired boy instead. I steadied myself and ran through all the spells I could recall but none of them seemed appropriate for such a situation. If I used something too powerful and deadly and accidentally killed Harry I would never forgive myself, and anything weak enough for me to feel safe casting in Harry's direction would only serve to anger Greyback further.

"Take me instead," I pleaded at last, doing the only thing I could think of. If I could get Harry away from the werewolf, at least we might have a fighting chance of escape.

Greyback merely chuckled, however, apparently thinking I was making a fabulous joke. "You're quite naive for a Malfoy," he responded, his voice a throaty rasp. "I don't have to choose. I can have you both."

"Fine, but you and I both know that Voldemort will want Potter in one piece," I reasoned, calling on the Malfoy qualities of persuasion I actually _did_ possess.

Greyback narrowed his eyes but he seemed to be thinking it over. I didn't let him get too far before I continued. "I, however, would not be missed by the Dark Lord." That was true enough; my father might throw a tantrum if he found out a lowly minion such as Fenrir had slaughtered his only son, but the fallout wouldn't be too great.

"Fair enough," he growled and tossed Harry aside like a rag doll before launching himself at me. His vicious talons were extended and ready to slice through me like soft butter. I shouted the only spell that had been on my lips when his yellow eyes met mine and heard the spell echo through the room before I realized that Harry had shouted the same incantation the moment he recovered from being thrown aside. "Avada Kedavra," we shouted in unison as jets of green light pierced Fenrir in both the chest and back.

With not one, but two Unforgivables hitting Fenrir, the werewolf had no chance of survival and he fell to the ground at my feet. My heart was still racing and I was gasping for breath as I watched Harry check for a pulse and shake his head. He came to me at once, grabbing me and kissing me deeply.

I blinked twice, not understanding what was going on before throwing caution to the wind and responding in turn. If possible, the kiss was more heated and desperate than even our first and I let myself wade in the depths of pleasure while it lasted. Who knew when Harry's fickle heart would change its mind and cast me aside once again? I had to make the most of what I was given.

"I thought I was going to lose you," Harry whispered when we broke apart.

"I still have some fight in me yet," I responded, my eyes flicking to the dead werewolf on the rug beside us. I couldn't believe I had taken a life, but it was worth it if it meant I had saved Harry's. I would exchange anyone's life for Harry's –even my own. "Where is Druella?" I asked, suddenly rooted with fear.

Harry winced and bowed his head. "I found her in the master bedroom of this wing," he replied sullenly. I knew just by looking in his eyes what he'd found.

"Is she dead?" I asked softly, my heart already knew the answer but he nodded in confirmation.

"I'll take care of it," he announced quickly. "You shouldn't have to see your grandmother like that."

A lump formed in my throat as I thought of my poor unsuspecting grandmother becoming werewolf fodder. It wasn't fair, but at least we'd managed to get her vengeance on the beast.

It was already well into the evening hours, but Harry did as he promised and buried my grandmother in the cemetery behind the manor. There had been a spot marked for her since her death had been looming already, but it didn't make her violent passing any easier to cope with.

Harry left me alone so that I could pay my final respects while he ran off to get a message to Remus Lupin about the orphaned werewolves now roaming the forest. He seemed to think that Lupin could help tame the children and remove some of the vile brainwashing they'd been subjected to under Greyback's guidance.

I told Grandmother that I was sorry I hadn't made it there in time to save her, or that my very presence in the forest had led to her untimely death, but I hoped she was in a better place. I took comfort in the fact that she would have been rather miserable in her last few days and would have been livid if she'd lived through the werewolf attack only to have her pureblood tainted at the very end of her life. I could almost hear her griping about it now.

With heavy footsteps I trudged back to the manor, startled to see Harry's silhouette watching me from the doorway. As I approached he took my hand and led me upstairs to a room in the opposite wing of where our recent hardships had taken place. I found it thoughtful and, once again, I was glad to have him there with me. His hand gave mine a tiny squeeze as he ushered me into the bedroom.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save her," Harry muttered as he pulled at the buttons on my shirt, undressing me. "He was already here when I arrived. He ambushed me while I checked her pulse."

"Why did you leave without me?" I asked, suddenly remembering how angry I should be at him for bailing on me in the first place.

"I thought I could save her and kill Greyback before you arrived. I couldn't stand it if something happened to you," he whispered, running his fingertips along my cheek in a possessive manner.

He had yet to shed the crimson cloak, but with the hood pushed back, I could see his cheeks flush so darkly they almost competed with the cloak's brilliant color. "Harry, I-" I began, stammering. I couldn't bear to hear his rejection again; I couldn't feel him so close just to have him yanked out of my grasp once more.

Harry's thin finger pressed against my lips, halting any more blathering on my part. "You saved my life," he whispered, "but even without that noble deed, I think I'm falling in love with you, Draco Malfoy."

My breath caught in my throat and Harry smiled slightly at my reaction before gently coaxing me toward the bed that awaited us. I shoved his hand from my lips and crashed into him, the kiss erasing all the bad from our journey as if it had never happened. I loved Harry and he loved me. Anything else was trivial at the moment.

Clothing was ripped away from our bodies and tossed to the side as we scrambled into bed, our eyes never leaving one another. Harry's gaze raked over me appreciatively and my own throat made a guttural noise at the sight of Harry's naked form below me. I pressed kisses along his heated flesh, relishing in the moans that met my ears, only pausing as I neared his throbbing erection.

"My, Draco, what a hot mouth you have," Harry groaned, lust burning deep within his eyes as he stared down at me.

I wrapped my lithe fingers around his member and shot him a wicked smile. "All the better to devour you with, My Dear," I whispered before taking him into my mouth. Harry's back arched from the bed at the touch, encouraging me forward. Within moments he was growing tense and gasping in pleasure as I worked him with my mouth and tongue.

"Draco… so close," he moaned in warning, but I didn't even pause in my steady rhythm until I heard him groan and shudder and felt his hot seed shoot down my anxious throat. I rolled the salty flavor of him around on my tongue as I moved up and captured his mouth once more. His legs wrapped around my waist and I could feel his yearning almost as acutely as I could feel my own. When he reached down and grasped my cock, I nearly lost my balance as I hovered over him.

I grabbed my wand from where it had been discarded on the bed and I cast the few Charms I knew that might be helpful in this situation. The first slicked us both with a slippery clear substance and the second helped to stretch Harry's entrance, preparing him for my intrusion. I did the rest with my fingers, making him squirm and writhe beneath me.

His hand still clung to my prick and he began directing it toward his waiting entrance. "My, Draco, what a huge erection you have," he moaned and my whole body shuddered at his cheeky tone.

"All the better to fuck you with, My Dear," I groaned in reply as I slid into his tight channel. Even with the preparations, I could tell Harry was uncomfortable, so I shifted inside of him until I found a spot that made Harry cry out and clutch at the bed linens around us. With a smirk, I began thrusting into him more determinedly, each time making sure I grazed that spot that seemed to drive Harry mad with desire. It wasn't long before his flagging erection had renewed and he was arching on the bed to meet my thrusts.

One hand clutched at his thigh while the other wrapped around his cock, stroking it in time with the rhythm I had built pounding into his arse. I felt his entire body tense around me when I looked up, his eyes were fluttering like mad and before I could stop it Harry's pleasure boiled over and took us both into screaming orgasms that continued to echo through us for several minutes afterwards.

When I finally collapsed onto the bed beside him, Harry quickly moved to lay his head against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. We'd been through so much together over the past few days, but I felt all of it simply made us a more durable couple. Now that I knew Harry shared my affection, I figured we could weather any storm, even Voldemort when that time came.

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged his body tightly to me, smiling when he pressed a kiss to my chest. "My, Draco, what strong arms you have," he whispered, his breath causing my nipples to stand erect.

"All the better to hold onto you with, My Dear," I replied, running my hands through his tousled ebony locks.

"And your heartbeat," he continued. "My, what a strong heartbeat you have."

"All the better to love you forever with, My Dear," I replied, before I heard his contented sigh and we both fell asleep in each other's arms.

**FIN**

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Author's Note: Yes, yes. cheesy I know, but what else would I do for a happy ending to a fairytale? lol. So, Happy Birthday Gareth! and I hope you all enjoyed the first story in my little collection. Next up will be Cinderella, requested by Laurel. Don't forget to send in your requests if you have any ideas!!


	4. Cinderella: Part 1

Author's Note: So, here is part 1 of 2 for Cinderella! I'm working on the ending for this one, the ending for The Little Mermaid and part 1 of Sleeping Beauty now so all three of these stories should be completed and posted by month's end. Thanks to Laurel her beta reading of it.

**Cinderella Part 1**

Summer was the worst time of Harry's life and it seemed like every year Harry's cousin Dudley grew more and more obnoxious. He didn't think that it would be possible, but when Harry got in from Kings Cross Station this year, Dudley had found a new nickname for him.

_Cinderfella._

Apparently the fat lump had developed a secret addiction to Disney fairytales while he'd been away and only thought the nickname too appropriate when dealing with Harry, who of course was in charge of all Dudley's chores when he was home for the summer. This free time gave Dudley ample opportunity to think of new and inventive ways to torture Harry.

Spoiled, fat and cruel, Harry's cousin was a force to be reckoned with. The boy could do no wrong in his mother's eyes while Harry could seem to do nothing right. Dudley got to sit and watch television all day, while Harry was forced to wait on him hand and foot; all while doing the household chores that no one else lifted a finger to assist with. It was if the Dursleys had taken in a lanky maid. Dishes, rubbish, gardening, meals – Harry was in charge of all of it and he loathed and resented every minute.

So, when his cousin began swooning over a new band and found out they were coming to play a concert nearby, Harry was atwitter with anticipation. The band's name was _'The Prince Charmings'_ and they were a clever blend of alternative rock with catchy beats and lyrics that Harry's discerning ear found little fault with. His appreciation for this new band was one of the only things Harry would admit he had in common with his fat lump of a cousin, and it was the hope of attending the concert with him that kept Harry from muttering too much about his chores.

So, when an invitation to the concert came addressed to Harry and no one would let him read it, he grew petulant. "It's only fair that I at least get to read it," Harry whined, refusing to touch another dish until they turned the envelope over to him.

"Boy, I'm warning you," his uncle Vernon, growled. The envelope in question was currently being crumpled in his fat fist. "One more word out of you and I'll throw it into the fire and no one will ever know what it said."

Harry wasn't terribly worried about that. He figured that if he didn't get to read his own letter than neither should they, although Harry's sense of fair might have been a little skewed after all his years living with his adopted family. "Go on then," Harry goaded, calling his uncle's bluff.

Vernon's beady eyes narrowed and he stormed off into the living room with Harry close on his heels. As expected, however, his uncle didn't throw the parchment out -he opened it.

"Dear Harry Potter, blah blah blah," he read, skimming along the passage. "It's an invitation to an after party for that blasted concert you wanted to go to," he announced at last.

"Oh!" Petunia exclaimed, speaking up for the first time. She did love a glamorous party where she could show off her and her family's status. As what, Harry had yet to figure out. He had always thought of the Dursleys as entirely middle class, but they saw themselves as much more than that and Harry as much less. "What kind of party?" she asked excitedly. Vernon passed her the invitation and Harry read it over her shoulder.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_As a wizard of note in the British Wizarding community, you're invited to partake in the after party for the premier concert of 'The Prince Charmings' in London. You'll be able to meet the band members and be treated to drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The party will be held in the Diagon Lofts in Diagon Alley at midnight directly after the show. _

_The Floo will be open to the public that evening, or you can attend via the address enclosed._

_Sincerely,_

_The Prince Charmings Management Team_

"What's a Floo?" Dudley asked aloud, making his mother jerk away from him abruptly.

"As if I would know such magical lingo and nonsense?" she scoffed, far too haughty for someone of her shallow status. "Ask your freak of a cousin," she muttered, deciding to continue to ignore Harry's existence.

Dudley looked over at Harry but refused to ask him, so Harry just rolled his eyes. "It's the way we travel by fireplace."

"Oh," Dudley replied dully. "So can I go, Mum?" he asked, diverting his attention to Petunia.

"I don't see why not, Duddikins," she replied, talking at him like he was a small fluffy animal instead of the obese teenager he was.

"I thought you two hated magic, how could you let Dudley go to a party being held by a wizarding organization that he's _not even invited to_!" Harry balked.

"Into the cupboard with you," Vernon bellowed, pointing his fat finger to Harry's bedchamber, which was actually only a closet under the narrow staircase.

Harry shot his stepfamily a dirty look, and reluctantly returned to his cupboard under the stairs and shut the door behind him, which Vernon promptly locked. He could hear them discussing what Dudley should wear to the party from just outside his door. Vernon was against the whole thing, citing that anyone with magical powers was an abomination. Petunia was for it only because her dearest son wanted to go.

"He's not going to be able to get in without me," Harry pointed out through the slats on his little closet door. He allowed himself a smug grin as the room grew silent and he heard the telltale sound of Vernon's heavy footfalls coming over to unlatch the door.

"Out with you then," he grumbled, having already lost the fight of keeping Dudley at home.

"What do you mean he won't get in without you?" Petunia asked.

"I'm the wizarding celebrity, Dudley's just a fat Muggle. They'll turn him away at the door if he even managed to find his way to the door in the first place," he replied contemptuously. "If Dudley wants to go, you'll have to let me go with him."

They didn't like that too much but after a bit of staring and well-place scowls, Harry finally won the argument, with the provision that Dudley was to remain unharmed and if anything –magical or otherwise- were to happen to their dear Duddikins, Harry would be out on his arse.

After putting up such a fierce argument, Harry didn't have the energy to tell his family that if that moment came, it would be the best day of his life.

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"But that's ridiculous," Harry protested, trying his best not to stomp his feet in a decidedly childish manner. "You can't make me take him to the after party, but not let me go to the concert!"

"We can and we will," Vernon snapped, looked very pleased with himself.

Of course he'd waited until the evening of the concert, right after Harry had made and served him dinner to let Harry in on that little tidbit of information.

"The concert is in an hour and you're telling me now that I can't go?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"You'll get to meet the band and whatnot at your little freak party," Vernon grumbled, "but tonight you'll stay here while we take Dudley to the concert."

Harry was close to refusing to take Dudley to the after party at all, but that would mean he wouldn't be allowed to go either, and not even the constipated look on Dudley's face would be worth missing that party. Even if Harry hadn't liked the band, he still would have done anything he could to get out of the Dursley house for any amount of time. Besides, he had an inkling that his uncle wanted Harry to refuse to take him, that way he could tell his son that he couldn't go and blame it all on Harry.

So, Harry kept his mouth shut and just stormed off.

He was sitting by the fireplace when the Dursleys made to leave, Dudley in too tight jeans and an unflattering horizontal striped shirt while his parents looked on decidedly anxious about the whole affair. No doubt they would find a way to make Harry the scapegoat for their son's unusual taste in music.

'_The Prince Charmings'_ were a magical band that played almost solely for Muggle audiences. They followed in the footsteps of other magical bands that had made a fair bit of money impressing the Muggle teens with things that were just plain ordinary to other wizards. Because of this, it was actually Dudley that had heard of them first, in fact, Harry hadn't even known the band was magical until the after party invitation had come.

It made sense though when he thought about it. The lead singer was exceptionally hot in a Draco Malfoy sort of way, only better because he wasn't a prat. The set and special effects performed at each show were far too elaborate for Muggle techs to put together and the music had an ethereal quality that just couldn't be replicated with _normal_ –read non-magical- equipment.

He wondered vaguely if he knew any of the musicians. They were all his age, or at least looked like it, so they had to go to school at one of the magical institutions. Hogwarts was the most obvious choice, but it was possible they went to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. It would explain why their only concerts would be over the summer.

Sulking, because he wouldn't get to see the doubtless brilliant performance, Harry was startled when he heard a faint pop and looked up to see Sirius Black standing in his living room. This might not have been so odd, except that Sirius had died the year before.

Harry's eyes widened and he immediately raised his wand in defense. "Who are you?" he demanded of the man who couldn't possibly be his godfather.

"Harry," the man replied with a familiar wink. "You know who I am. Don't tell me you've forgotten me already."

"I haven't forgotten who Sirius Black is, I just know for a fact that he's dead," Harry bit out, not liking the prank that was being played upon him.

"Well, I'm back…sort of," he replied, adjusting his leather jacket, but reaching for his wand as Harry would have expected of a wizard who had another's wand aimed at him. "It's only in a limited capacity, however," he added with a subtle frown.

"And what might that capacity be?" Harry asked him warily.

"I'm here tonight as your fairy godfather," he announced, giving his hands a little flourish as if he'd just ended an elaborate dance routine. "Tada!" With that, a set of silvery wings burst from the man's back, straight through the leather jacket, and knocked a little porcelain trinket off the shelf behind him. "Whoops."

Harry couldn't help but laugh and in a moment of abandon, he rushed over to hug his godfather, who swept him up in his arms at once. Tears were falling down Harry's face before he could stop them, he had missed Sirius so much and he told him so.

"I've missed you too, Kid," Sirius replied in kind, pulling away only to look Harry over. "They haven't been feeding you enough."

"You sound like Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

"Molly's a smart woman, even if we don't always see eye to eye. So, why am I here?" Sirius asked at last, as if getting to business.

"Uh, I'm not sure, I thought you might explain that to _me_," Harry noted, thoroughly confused.

"Well, it seems you've been denied a portion of your destiny, and I'm here to make that right," Sirius informed the boy.

"It's my destiny to go to this concert tonight?" Harry asked, his brows knit together in confusion. "That's odd… it has nothing to do with Voldemort."

"Tonight is _'The Prince Charmings'_ concert?" Sirius asked, his eyes going wide, but Harry only nodded, still utterly perplexed. "Harry, we have to get you there."

There was no time for questions as Sirius booted the boy toward his cupboard, demanding he get dressed quickly. When Harry emerged, Sirius shook his head in dismay. "You can't wear Dudley's old things to this concert, Harry. You have to look perfect."

"So, no pressure then?" Harry commented sarcastically, his face lighting up with a crimson blush. "Why is this concert so important anyhow?"

Sirius simply stared at him for a moment, as if contemplating how much to say. "I've seen your future, Harry, and this concert is the catalyst for so many things. Do you trust me?"

"Of course," Harry replied without hesitation.

"Then shut your eyes and don't open them until I say," Sirius ordered.

Harry could feel the wisps and tingles of magical energy swirling all around him as he stood there and tried to figure out what his godfather had told him. Was Sirius being… well, serious? Had he really seen Harry's future? And how could this concert have anything to do with it? When he was finally told to open his eyes, Harry noticed he was in front of a mirror looking very much like someone else.

Tight fitting jeans and an equally tight vintage tee shirt and flat-black boots replaced his previous ensemble, while his wrist bore too many thick plastic bracelets to count. His hair was messy, but in more of a 'just been fucked' kind of way rather than a 'spent sixteen years sleeping in a cupboard' sort of way. He also noticed that even though he was no longer wearing glasses his glasses, his vision was perfect. Overall, he was rather pleased with his new look, but when he spied the thick kohl liner around his eyes he scowled up at his godfather.

"Too much?" Sirius asked. He looked both proud of his handiwork and amused at Harry's expression.

"A bit," Harry confirmed. With another flick of his wand, Sirius removed most of the kohl, but to Harry's chagrin left a bit. He had to admit it made the brilliant green of his eyes stand out so he didn't whine about it.

Sirius studied him for a moment, making slow circles around him as he critiqued his work. "Something's missing," he mused and then stopped and laughed. "Of course."

With no other explanation, Sirius slipped out of his worn leather jacket and held it out to Harry. When Harry put it on, the leather moved and shifted into place around him until it looked tailored to fit him. "Perfect," Sirius noted at last. "Are you ready?"

"To go to the concert?"

"To fulfill your destiny," Sirius corrected.

Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded and they popped out of existence. The sensation of Side-Apparition was uncomfortable but it was still better than the feeling he got when he used a Portkey. Before he could think about how nauseas he was starting to feel, the world spun around him and he was standing in front of Wembley Stadium with hundreds of people his age filing into a series of doors.

He stared in awe at the building he'd only seen briefly from the window of his uncle's car. He could hardly believe that a magical band was playing here of all places and catering mostly to Muggles. It was very surreal.

Sirius had a beaming smile on his face as he looked down at his godson. He passed the boy a ticket, which would apparently give Harry entrance to the concert and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"One last minor detail," Sirius told him as he held out a silver flask. Harry noticed the Black family crest on the sides and sniffed the contents.

"Polyjuice?" Harry whined. He'd hated the stuff with a passion ever since he had to drink it in second year, but after being tricked with it in fourth he had sworn to himself that he would stay away from it.

"Just for the concert," Sirius placated. "It'll wear off in an hour, but you'll need it. Trust me."

Reasoning that this was his destiny, Harry reluctantly drank the putrid liquid, trying his best not to gag, and felt his body morph and shift with only minor changes. He felt his scar disappear and the bone structure in his face change slightly, and he could swear he'd actually felt his hair lighten, though how he could feel that he had no idea. Harry looked down and noted that he wasn't very different.

"It was made using hair from your father when he was your age," Sirius explained. "It didn't affect your eyes though since I already put them under a vision spell."

"So…all the shifts I felt were just the Polyjuice removing my mother's traits?" Harry asked, feeling a little odd about that. He hadn't realized he had more from his mother than just her eyes, but apparently he'd had her cheekbones and ears as well.

"Sort of," Sirius replied with a chuckle. "I promise it will wear off in an hour or so. By midnight you should be back to normal."

"Midnight," Harry repeated as if trying to remember when to flee other people's vicinity. He could hear the band begin to play even from where he stood outside and he turned to head toward the sound but Sirius grabbed his shoulders intently.

"Harry, listen very carefully to me now. He can't know who you are yet," Sirius told him firmly.

"_Who_ can't know?" Harry asked. This evening was getting more and more puzzling with every second that passed.

"You'll know," he replied with a wink and then he was gone, leaving Harry staring at an empty spot of concrete. It was so hard to have the last word with a wizard. He hadn't even had time to ask if he'd get to see him again, and now Sirius' appearance felt like a distant dream.

With a sigh, Harry turned and made his way quickly up the stairs and into the stadium. Once inside he was blown away by what he saw onstage. Large orange orbs hovered in the air, moving and bouncing above the crowd and they changed colors to the beat of the music. Bright lights illuminated the band as they played and colorful images kept flashing up on the screens behind them.

Awestruck, Harry shuffled through the crowd until he was close to the front. The lead singer was as gorgeous in person as he was in the posters Harry had seen around town. Disheveled blond hair fell in chunky locks around the boy's face; his eyes were lined like Harry's only he also had a decorative white stripe across the bridge of his nose that extended across his cheeks. The stunning boy was clad in tight black pants that made his arse look magnificent and an odd jacket made up of black and gold strips of fabric. It looked vaguely like ancient military attire. The rest of the band wore different variations of black denims and worn tee shirts, and Harry was happy his godfather had assisted him with his wardrobe. He fit right in with the motley crew on stage.

As they finished the song, the lights dimmed and Harry squashed in closer to the front until only a line of security was in front of him. When the lights came back, everything was awash in red and the lead singer pointed to Harry and crooked his finger with a smirk on his beautiful lips. The security guard directly in front of Harry grabbed him and lifted him clumsily onstage and after taking a moment to acclimate himself, noticed that the lead singer – who went by Abraxas as his stage name – was staring at him.

"What's your name?" he shouted into the microphone, his question aimed at Harry.

"_He can't know who you are yet."_ The words rang through his ears as if Sirius was speaking directly beside him.

"James," Harry replied, trying his best not to blush at having the attention of the band and the entire audience on him.

The boy smirked again and took Harry's hand, lifting it to his lips where he placed a kiss across his knuckles. This didn't help Harry keep his flush at bay, nor did it help when the audience cheered and swooned at the gesture. "Well, James, this song is for you," Abraxas told him and Harry could have died.

It was a love song of course, slow and ballad-like with a hard edge that made things low in Harry's abdomen jerk in response. He knew it was just a stunt, and that the band probably brought a new fan up to the stage with them at every show, but Harry was in heaven with his hand clutched firmly in the blond's and his whole body responding to being serenaded in public.

When the song drew to a close, Abraxas pulled Harry to him and whispered against his lips. He knew to the audience it probably appeared they were kissing, and Harry secretly wished it were true. Instead of kissing him though, Abraxas merely invited him to the party he was already going to later. "I want you there," he told Harry huskily. "There's something different about you."

Most likely it was a common line the Adonis used to lure groupies into his bed, but before Harry could tell the blond he wasn't that easy, Abraxas pressed an invitation into his hand and passed him over to a woman who had bustled onto the stage to scoop Harry up.

She had bright red hair cut into a sharp bob with the corners curling up on themselves. Her makeup was dramatic, as was the black and buckled get up she was wearing, but she smiled reassuringly and led Harry off to the side where he could watch the rest of the show. Her name was Six, as Harry soon found out, and she was the band's manager, though she didn't look old enough or stuffy enough to be anyone's manager.

"Abraxas really likes you, I think," she noted as she flipped through some things on a very elaborate looking cell phone.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm sure," he muttered, looking down at the invitation, which matched the one he'd already received almost exactly.

It took a moment, but eventually Six looked up from her multitude of tasks to narrow her eyes at Harry. "You think I'm lying." She wasn't asking, it appeared she already knew the answer.

"I think you're exaggerating," Harry corrected and she smirked at him.

"Smart boy," she noted with pleasure. "Most people would be lapping it all up by now, but not you, huh?"

"Not me," Harry confirmed. "I can see it's all an act."

Six pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side for a moment as if weighing her response. "Some of it is an act, but some of it is very real."

Harry assumed she was talking about the magic, but he wasn't about to let her in on the fact that he was a wizard. He wondered if this woman was a witch as well. On the surface it didn't seem like it, what with her four-inch heels, edgy clothing and Muggle electronics, but after scrutinizing her rather closely, Harry saw the end of what looked like a wand sticking out of the top of her black pencil skirt.

He might have asked, since he felt sort of odd just standing there in silence with the strange woman, but she went back to poking at the surface of her phone with her index finger and shaking her head in thought. "No, that will never do. He'd die before he'd play that venue," she muttered to herself before clicking away again.

Harry went back to watching the band and continued to enjoy himself as they went through the set list. They played most of his favorite songs and Harry even thought once or twice he saw Abraxas look for him off the side of the stage, but then assumed he was mistaken when the boy's eyes drifted passed him.

When the concert was over, his intention was just to Apparate home, grab Dudley and then Apparate over to the Leaky Cauldron, but Six wouldn't let him out of her sight. "Are you coming to the after party?" she asked, though Harry could tell she assumed he was.

"Er…." Harry stammered, unsure what to say. He knew the Polyjuice potion would be wearing off any moment now, and he was supposed to bring his cousin.

"You have to," Six told him. "He's asked for your attendance."

"And does Abraxas get everything he wants?" Harry asked sarcastically, but Six just nodded while looking somewhat affronted.

"Yes," she replied haughtily. "Of course he does."

That settled it apparently, and Six led Harry through a crowd of equipment and wires and then a crowd of people waiting to tear at the band. They rounded the side of a massive bus with the band's logo and picture wrapped around it and the other end of the parking lot was empty. "Now, this might seem a little strange, but I need you to close your eyes and trust me."

She apparently thought she was going to Apparate a Muggle out of the concert, but before he could explain that he wasn't a Muggle at all, he felt his face begin to shift and he panicked. "I really can't go. I'm supposed to meet up with some friends and I…I have to go!" he shouted and ran off before Six could say or do anything about it.

As he scrambled across the parking lot, trying to blend in with the crowd, he noticed his cousin and fell upon the boy. "Dudley, are you ready to go?" he asked. Part of him was anxious to see Abraxas again, but he knew the boy probably wouldn't recognize him and that was probably for the best.

"You were there!" his cousin stammered. "He took you on stage!"

"Keep your voice down," Harry demanded. "How did you know it was me?"

Dudley gestured to the very unique clothing Harry was wearing and Harry sighed. He quickly slipped out of his jacket and handed it to Dudley. "You wear this for now, but if anything happens to it I'll curse your dick so that it never works again," he threatened.

Dudley paled, but looked down at the jacket and laughed. "This will never fit me."

"Just try it," Harry said distractedly as he scanned the lot for someplace they could Apparate from without being detected.

"Underage wizards aren't allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts," sounded a stern voice from behind them. Harry turned to beam at his godfather and Dudley shrieked beside him, still clutching the leather jacket. Sirius removed it from his grip and put the jacket back on. "So, did you have fun?"

"Loads, but I still don't see how this has anything to do with my destiny," Harry muttered.

"Did you meet anyone special?" Sirius asked.

"I met Abraxas and his manager, Six," Harry mused. "Why?"

"No reason," he responded vaguely. "I see you have a hanger-on," he noted, gesturing to the still gaping Dudley.

"I'm supposed to take him to the after party," Harry grumbled.

"How about I Apparate you to the Leaky and then make sure that the little Dursley gets back home safely with memories of having a great time at this party?" Sirius offered.

"Could you really do that?" Harry asked brightly.

"Could I?" he scoffed, as if the answer should be obvious. Harry didn't get a chance to apologize right away because he was spinning through the air on his way to the Leaky Cauldron. Once there, Dudley looked ready to vomit while Harry pressed his godfather for more of the Polyjuice.

"I want to see Abraxas again and he's not going to recognize Harry Potter," he explained.

Sirius seemed to be thinking hard on it, and eventually nodded, handing the flask back to Harry. "Be careful, Harry, and don't forget what I told you," he whispered. "Now off with you. I'm sure you can find a way home from the party?"

Harry nodded and waved as he turned and made his way through the pub and into Diagon Alley.

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It was pretty clear which place was the Diagon Lofts. Harry rightly guessed it was the building with loads of people milling about outside. As he walked up, a familiar face met his gaze and stomped over to him – steadier than Harry would imagine possible in such high heels. "You came," Six announced. "How did you make it?" Harry merely shrugged in response, unable to come up with a clever way to avoid the question. "Well, Abraxas will be pleased. He's already asked about you."

That bit of news made Harry's guts swirl and his heart skip a beat. The lead singer was truly dreamy, but Harry hoped that he wasn't assuming he'd get laid tonight. Harry just wasn't like that. Nevertheless, he followed Six into the building, bypassing several irked people and looked around at the odd space –or at least odd for a wizarding building.

The only word Harry could think of to describe the space was industrial. It had polished concrete floors, open metal staircases and the walls were all a stark white with elaborate art dotting the walls here and there. The ceiling was all metal rafters and ductwork and even though it should probably feel cold and sterile, Harry found it cozy, but that might just be because Abraxas chose that very moment to walk over.

"You found him!" he exclaimed, addressing Six, who he kissed on both cheeks before turning to face Harry. "James," he greeted and gave Harry the same treatment. The kisses were chaste and casual but Harry's belly lit on fire from the brief touch. When he pulled away he saw a flicker of heat cross over Abraxas' piercing gray eyes as well. "I'm happy you could make it."

"Of course," Harry replied with a nod, trying to banish the blush from his cheeks. Abraxas ran his fingertips across the flushed skin and smiled.

"Adorable."

That didn't help, but Harry smiled back and Abraxas led him through the crowd, pausing only a few brief moments to greet other guests until they came to the top of the stairs to a closed off room…with a bed. Harry swallowed thickly and wondered how he was going to get out of this tactfully, or at all, and then he even wondered if he wanted to. Perhaps one lovely night with the famous Abraxas would be worth the humiliation he would feel later.

"Listen, Abraxas," he began, but the blond's lips were on his before he could say anything else and his resolved melted around his body. Abraxas' lips were firm, yet gentle as they pressed and explored Harry's mouth. When his tongue asked for entrance, Harry obliged and they fell to the bed in a panting, groping mass.

They didn't make it further than snogging and heavy petting before Abraxas gently pushed Harry away. "Sorry," he apologized bashfully. "I don't know what came over me. I came up here to get to know you better and suddenly I couldn't restrain myself."

Harry chuckled and smiled at the obvious compliment. "It's best we stop," Harry conceded. "I'm not the type of bloke who sleeps with rock stars."

"Not ever?" Abraxas asked, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Well," Harry began, blushing again, "not unless I know them really well."

The blond laughed and shook his head at the joke. "Do you know a lot of rock stars really well, then?"

"No," Harry admitted. "None."

"So, then I would be your first?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low and seductive tone. Harry could only swallow thickly and nod. "Perfect."

"But we're just talking," Harry reminded him, backing up before he fell under the boy's hypnotic gaze once more.

Abraxas just chuckled darkly and nodded. "Just talking, and maybe kissing."

Harry shut his eyes against the onslaught of lust he felt in the blond's presence. Why couldn't he fall for a boy at school this way? Why couldn't he ever do anything normal? "So, what are we talking about?" he asked.

"Tell me about your life," Abraxas requested, looking genuinely interested.

"Not much to tell, really," Harry admitted. "I live with my aunt and uncle over the summer and live at Ho- er - boarding school the rest of the year. I have a few close friends, a few close enemies, and other than that there's not much else to say." Or rather, not much else he _could_ say. He thought that telling the boy that he was destined to kill the most powerful wizard of all time might be sort of a mood killer, not to mention a dead giveaway for who he was.

"You seem so familiar somehow," Abraxas sighed out of nowhere, taking Harry slightly off guard.

"Someone good?" Harry asked.

"You could say so," the boy replied thoughtfully, almost wistfully. "He's a boy I go to school with. He's willful and stubborn and sort of a goody-two-shoes, but he's also clever and handsome and all the things I would want in a partner."

Harry swallowed thickly and tried not to look crushed that the boy he was pining after desired someone else. He tried to take hold of the fact that he reminded Abraxas of the boy he was infatuated with, but it was hard. "Why don't you date him then?"

"My father hates him," the boy replied easily. "It's really poor luck that I fell for a boy so untouchable."

"So, how do I remind you of him?" Harry asked, trying to steer the conversation to more comfortable topics.

"Your eyes," he replied before reaching out to gently stroke Harry's face. "You share the most enchanting emerald eyes."

Harry sighed and melted against Abraxas once again and could easily pretend that it was him the blond was speaking of when he talked of his unattainable love. When he felt the first stirrings of the Polyjuice wearing off, he again set into a panic. Why couldn't he have more time? Just a little more time!

"Anyway," Abraxas was saying, having not noticed the fear and panic rolling through Harry's eyes. "I don't think he'd have me even if my father approved."

"I have to go!" Harry shouted, leaping up and away from Abraxas with a haste he didn't know he had.

"What?" he replied, taken aback. "You've only just gotten here!"

"I'm late. I should have gone home straight away," Harry tried to make up an excuse for his quick departure. He turned away from Abraxas so the boy didn't witness his change and he ran for the door.

A hand stopped him and pressed a ticket into his hand. "That's for our last show of the summer. Promise me you'll come."

"I promise," Harry told him without thinking and took the stairs two at a time on his way down. Once in the alley outside the building, he breathed a sigh of relief at having escaped unnoticed. He could probably go back in as Harry Potter, but he didn't want to get mobbed by people. He'd only come to see Abraxas anyhow. After a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself from the amount of panic and lust that still coursed through his veins, Harry Apparated to Privet drive and snuck inside.

He was grateful that the Dursleys had all gone off to bed and wondered if his fairy godfather had something to do with that. Silent as a mouse he crept into his cupboard and lay down. As he stared at the ticket Abraxas had given him, Harry wished the beautiful blond would one day talk about him the same way as he talked about his mystery schoolboy crush.

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Author's note: I modeled the Abraxas character (which I'm sure you've all discovered who that is by now) after one of my favorite old school rock icons, Adam Ant, only blond of course.


	5. Cinderella: Part 2

Author's Note: So here is part 2 of 2 for Cinderella. Thanks go out to Laurel for both suggesting and beta reading this, and for calling me lazy so that I'd fix it! lol

"It was amazing!" Dudley exclaimed for the fortieth time since Harry had woken up the morning after the concert. He was referring not to the concert itself, but to the after party, which he hadn't actually attended. The memories Sirius had given the boy were vague, but they were enough to keep Dudley excited and going over the same silly details repeatedly. "The food was so much better than this rubbish that Harry fixes," he went on as Petunia and Vernon listened patiently. Harry ignored them all and quietly escaped into the backyard.

The ticket Harry had been given by Abraxas was still in his pocket. He carried it with him everywhere as a token of the singular moment that Harry spent in pure bliss at the blond's attentions. He often found himself wishing he knew more about the singer. What was he like outside the screaming fans? What was his family life like? Where did he go to school? Who was this boy he had a crush on?

His jealous streak swept within him once more and he had to squash it. He couldn't go getting possessive over a boy he'd only just met and knew nothing about. What kind of relationship could he have with a rock star anyhow? Obviously the boy spent his summers touring Europe with his band and had dozens of people throwing themselves at him. Could Harry even cope with that?

If Abraxas was honest and faithful he knew he could. He could even picture himself making friends with Six, who was quite blunt and quirky but rather nice in her own way. But it didn't really matter if Harry decided that he could do it, Abraxas had to decide that he wanted that too, and really, what would a rock star want with someone like him?

As the next concert date approached, Harry became more and more anxious. He had no idea how he was going to get there when he couldn't use magic to sneak out of the Dursley's house no less. He'd begun experimenting with his outfit; using wandless glamours to slightly alter the jeans and shirt Sirius had made him to make them look different and not be picked up by the Ministry for performing under-age magic. So far he had settled on a pair of light gray washed denims and a sage green shirt, which Harry thought went nicely together.

He was wearing them the night of the concert while he sat on the sofa with the Dursleys, trying to figure out how he could sneak out unnoticed or what he could do to distract his relatives from his leaving. Turns out, he didn't really have to do anything. It was only eight, far too early for anyone to be thinking about sleeping, but all at once all three of the lumps sharing the couch with him decided it was time for them to retire and they went upstairs, yawning the whole way.

A moment later the fireplace flared to life and Sirius stepped out with a grin. "Harry!" he shouted as if there wasn't another soul in the place and Harry shushed him before giving him a tight hug. "Ah, no worries. They aren't waking up anytime soon."

"Well, all the same," Harry whispered, "I'd rather not chance it."

Sirius took a step back to study his godson and shook his head with a grin. "Harry, are you aware you're wearing Slytherin colors?"

"No!" Harry protested. "It's just a green shirt and gr- oh. Right. I suppose I am," he sulked, wishing he'd chosen something different now.

"I'm not judging," Sirius said, holding up his palms in defense.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes tightly as he thought of all the work he'd put into making the outfit look right only to have to redo it. "Should I change?"

"No, no, Harry. The colors suit you. I was just making an observation," he placated with a wry grin. "So, are we ready to go to the ball?" he asked, holding his elbow out for Harry to take.

Harry rolled his eyes, took his godfather's arm and they Apparated away. Their destination wasn't some grand arena, however, it was just a small pub. People were lined up screaming for entrance, but apparently the show was long since sold out and they weren't letting anyone through security without a ticket. Harry couldn't believe it. The show would be amazing in this small pub that he guessed could fit a hundred other people at most. It would be almost like Abraxas were playing for him alone and that thought made him blush all over again.

"Now, this is the last of the Polyjuice, Harry, and I need you to remember what I said before. He can't know who you are, not yet, okay?" he asked and Harry nodded absently. He was far too eager to get inside to listen to his godfather's warnings or wonder about them. "Keep the flask, there is maybe three hours worth in there. That should be enough to get you through the evening."

With a discreet hug, Harry bid his godfather farewell and disappeared into the crowd. He fought his way to the front and showed his ticket to the security guard who let him pass, much to everyone else's chagrin. The place was nearly empty when he walked through the door. The band's equipment was set up on a makeshift stage in one far corner and fans were starting to accumulate and move toward the front.

He caught a flash of red hair in the corner and wandered toward it, smiling back when Six beamed at him. "Well, well. If it isn't the illusive James," she greeted. "We weren't sure you'd show up after you bailed last time. You have an odd habit of freaking out and disappearing for just being a Muggle."

Harry just blinked at her but didn't confirm or deny her assumption of his magical status. "Is Abraxas here?" he asked instead.

"He's in the bus out back," she informed him and didn't offer to bring him there so Harry didn't know if he was just supposed to wait there, or if Abraxas wanted to see him at all. He decided that Abraxas being on the bus might mean he wasn't allowed in. Maybe he had another fan back there with him or maybe the band was rehearsing.

Six rolled her eyes and just pointed to the door behind her. "Do you need directions or do you think you can find the bus that has _'The Prince Charmings'_ written all over the side of it?"

"Well aren't you cranky today," Harry muttered and much to his surprise, Six laughed, although there was a slight bitter edge to it.

"I'm just stressed. There are a whole lot of people out there who want a piece of the band and I need to make sure that doesn't happen…unless Abraxas wants it to, so I suppose you're allowed to have a piece of him," she replied with a tired smirk.

Harry flushed and escaped the girl's leering presence by following her directions to the back in search of the boy that had been on his mind all week. First he went through a small kitchen and then he found another door that led outside. The large, colorful vehicle was pulled up so that the back door to the pub nearly lined up with that of the tour bus. Harry stepped onboard as gracefully as was possible and was met with the rare treat of seeing Abraxas shirtless. His chest was pale and magnificent and Harry nearly salivated at the sight of his flexing muscles as the boy got up to greet him.

A moment later Harry wasn't paying any attention to that chest because his gaze was filled with a set of stormy gray eyes; eyes that reminded him so much of someone else. "James," the boy greeted and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I've missed you."

"Missed me?" Harry asked bashfully before dismissing the sentiment. "I'm sure you were far too busy for that."

"You know, the only thing that would irk my father more than dating that boy from school I told you about, would be dating a Muggle," he laughed, "but if you'd have me, I would insist you follow me to every concert so that I wouldn't have to miss you."

"So, I'd be runner up to that boy at your school?" Harry muttered, somewhat upset that Abraxas didn't have more tact than to mention it that way.

The blond winced and gave him apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry, James. You just… you remind me so much of him I lose my head. Come sit with me before I have to go on, would you?"

Harry obeyed. Even though he was upset, he still liked being around the other boy and he knew that the opportunity would probably never arise for him again once he left tonight. Sirius was out of Polyjuice, Abraxas would be going back to pining over his schoolboy crush and Harry's own classes would be starting in less than a week. The summer was nearly over and so was this wild fantasy life with the rock star.

They only had a few minutes until the show was scheduled to start, so Abraxas filled him in on how the tour was going, steering clear of topics that would force him to explain magic. Harry found this amusing to watch because he knew precisely what the boy was talking about and Abraxas had no idea. This, however, brought to mind another question he'd been thinking about.

"What's your real name?" Harry asked. He knew Abraxas was the boy's stage name; it just had to be.

The blond was about to answer when Six stormed onto the bus tapping her watch. "I'll tell you later," Abraxas promised and kissed Harry lightly on the lips before trailing after his manager. The rest of the band emerged from deeper in the bus and Harry blushed again. He hadn't known anyone else was there, though he should have assumed so since he hadn't seen the rest of the band inside earlier. At least they hadn't done anything unseemly while they had an audience so close.

Harry followed at Six's beckoning and, once they got started, he was able to watch the concert from right up front. Abraxas stared at him the entire time as if he was trying to figure something out as he sang. Harry thought Abraxas sounded even better that night than he had the last time, his voice wasn't so amplified because the space was much more intimate and he was able to really hear the blond sing; it was beautiful. The set was shorter than the last time, and within an hour Abraxas was pulling Harry from the pub and into the warm London air. His arm was comfortably slung over Harry's shoulders and Harry's around the blond's waist as they walked together along the pathway.

"I don't have long to stay," Harry admitted and Abraxas frowned.

"We should make the most of it, then," the blond purred against Harry's ear. "Unless you're still hell bent on not shagging a rock star?"

Before he realized what he was doing, Harry was kissing the boy and thinking to himself that if Abraxas wanted him, he could have him. He might not be the mystery boy Abraxas went to school with, but perhaps making love to the sexy star might be enough to make Abraxas' crush disappear from his thoughts, and even if it didn't, it would always be a lovely memory.

He felt a rough tug at his gut and a wave of nausea as he stumbled, losing his balance. When he opened his eyes he was in a hotel bedroom of some kind and Abraxas was staring at him, trying to gauge how freaked out Harry was that they'd just Apparated. All he could do was laugh in reply at the star's expression and quickly resumed their kiss, which seemed to be fine with Abraxas. They toppled to the bed, Harry fumbling with the oddly large buckle on Abraxas' trousers and the blond tearing at Harry's shirt. Barely breaking their kiss, they both managed to disrobe the other and Harry gasped at the feel of Abraxas' bare flesh pressed against his own.

The blond's skin was like velvet, and his tongue was much too clever and talented as it explored the contours of Harry's body. Harry groaned as the boy finally took his pulsing erection into his mouth, clawing at the sheets beneath him in his struggle to free himself from over stimulation. If Abraxas continued too much longer, Harry would be spent and the memory of their time together would probably become a funny anecdote the singer that he would tell others on his next tour.

Seeming to sense Harry's escalated state, Abraxas slowed down and pulled away from Harry to simply sit back and admire him. "You don't by chance have a brother?" he asked, somewhat out of the blue.

"No," Harry panted in reply. "Why?"

"The resemblance is uncanny, and you didn't seem even slightly spooked by magic," the boy noted, scrutinizing further.

Harry was sick of being compared to a person he'd never met and at this point never wanted to; how could he possibly compete with this apparently unattainable classmate? He was the one here with Abraxas, not that stupid git. Why did the boy have to keep dwelling on it? "Are you going to fuck me, or are you just going to talk about that other boy all night?" Harry asked petulantly, hoping his vulgarity might whip Abraxas into action.

It did.

His eyes clouded over with lust and he rummaged through the crumpled bed linen beside Harry for a small jar. He wasted no time in smearing the contents around Harry's entrance, teasing him a little before roughly slipping two inexperienced fingers inside of him. Harry nearly screamed at the intrusion, he turned his head to the side looking away from Abraxas as a cry got caught in his throat, but, not too long after, Abraxas hit a spot that made Harry cry out with pleasure instead of pain. A third finger joined the first two and before long Harry was practically begging Abraxas to enter him, his voice a whimpering plea as his body felt ready to explode.

Abraxas' eyes were intense as he stared down at Harry, his gaze hooded and filled with longing. "Ready?" he rasped and Harry nodded vigorously.

Harry bit roughly into his lip as Draco slid into him. The pain was excruciating and not even his fingers had prepared him for the sudden feeling of fullness. Abraxas watched him carefully as he slowly thrust in and out, filling him a little more each time until Harry's back arched with pleasure and he began moving to meet each stroke. Using the same hand that had slicked Harry's entrance and his own cock, Abraxas took hold of Harry's neglected prick and began pumping it in time with his own movements. He didn't have to work it for very long.

"Fuck!" Harry screamed as he came all over Abraxas' hand and his own chest and then he squirmed when he felt Abraxas reach his release as well. He tried not to notice the boy biting off screaming a name that probably wasn't his.

He felt sullen and empty afterward, as if taking his virginity had meant nothing to the famous rock star. Of course, it probably didn't. "So," Harry asked, sounding bitterer than he'd like, "how often does this happen?"

"What?" Abraxas asked, curling in to snuggle next to Harry.

"Wooing a fan into your bed?" Harry clarified.

"Not often," Abraxas chuckled.

"Not often as in…?" Harry pressed and Abraxas looked at him with honest, steely eyes.

"Not often as in never has this happened before. You were my first, James," he boy admitted and Harry blushed.

"You're serious?" he whispered and Abraxas nodded and nuzzled into Harry further. Maybe the boy was lying but Harry chose to ignore that possibility and sleep soundly in the knowledge that he had taken the virginity of the famous rock star that now had his. And sleep he did. In fact, Harry didn't wake up until the sun began peeking in through the thin curtains that hung over the large windows of the hotel room he'd been taken to.

He remembered immediately what had happened and cringed at the awkward situation he now found himself in. Abraxas was wrapped and twined in the crisp sheets and Harry's own limbs, and Harry realized with a start that the Polyjuice would have worn off long ago. He was lucky Abraxas hadn't woken up in the middle of the night and seen that he wasn't in bed with the same boy he'd fallen asleep next to.

Slowly Harry extracted himself from the blond's embrace and scrambled to find his clothes. He had no idea where he was, so Apparating was risky. Instead he wrote a quick note telling Abraxas how much fun he had and that he hoped they'd see one another again and then he fled the room –which he discovered was a hotel in downtown London- as fast as he could.

Once he'd gotten his bearing and knew where he was, Harry went to reach for his wand so that he could Apparate home, only to find it was missing…Fuck. It must still be up in the hotel room. He chastised himself thoroughly for being so thoughtless as to leave something so important behind. Harry knew he couldn't go back up there and risk Abraxas seeing him, there was no guarantee the blond would still be asleep; he would have to leave it and hope that maybe Sirius could get it back for him later. Either way, Abraxas would know he was a wizard now and he would know that Harry had lied to him about who he was.

Harry tried not to dwell on that too much since there was a good chance he'd never see the boy again. Either way, he had a long trip home ahead of him and some explaining to do when he got there.

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Draco stirred awake and reached across the bed to try to pull James against him, only James wasn't there. With a start, Draco sat up and looked around the room to see the boy's clothes were missing; his heart sank into his stomach with bitter disappointment He felt like he'd been used and abandoned until he found the note James had left him.

'_Abraxas'_ it said and the name made him wince. He'd forgotten to tell James his real name and Draco had never even learned James' last name, he was so distracted with their frotting against one another he'd let the detail slip.

'_I had a brilliant time with you these past few nights and if you're not too busy, maybe we'll meet up again sometime. If not, good luck with the bloke you've been chasing after, and I wish you the best.'_

Draco sighed. He'd really been a prick to James over this whole thing, but he could hardly be blamed when James looked so much like the boy he'd been pining after for years. Harry wasn't gay though, nor would his father approve –not that he cared about that anymore- and he realized with a heavy heart that he'd bollixed things up with James for no good reason.

Draco's life had been a whirlwind since his mother convinced him to look into this odd musical venture. The husband of one of her society ladies owned a recording studio and had managed the best of both worlds by merging Muggle and wizarding pop culture together for ridiculous profit. Being part of the band gave Draco his own income and would ensure that upon graduating Hogwarts, he would no longer be forced to live under his father's thumb – not to mention he truly enjoyed being on stage and hearing the roar of the crowd chant his name, even though it wasn't really his.

Hopefully he'd run into James at his next concert, though that wouldn't be until the following summer, and the boy would probably have a proper Muggle boyfriend by then. Instinctively, Draco reached for his wand, as he did first thing every morning, and it took him a few seconds to realize that the discarded wand he'd found certainly wasn't his; James wasn't a Muggle after all. It certainly explained a lot when Draco thought about it.

With an excited few skips of his heart he realized that this discovery might mean that James probably went to Hogwarts as well, which meant Draco might just be able to see him again soon. He smirked as he imagined parading around Hogwarts with James on his arm and rubbing their relationship in Harry's face when he saw him, hopefully making the Gryffindor jealous. How hadn't Draco seen James before? He hoped he wasn't a Hufflepuff, which was a scary possibility since he'd paid little to no attention to any of them, unless he was wrong altogether and James went to an international magic school like Durmstrang or that new American school.

Draco felt light as he held the boy's wand in one hand and his letter in the other; he would have to see him again, James would need his wand for school. When he got up to take a shower, Draco noticed his Glamour was still firmly in place so he banished it and watched as his features slowly melted back into his own. It wasn't a huge difference; in fact, Draco had come up with the mold after looking at old photos of his father when he was Draco's age. After topping it all off with heavy stage makeup even Pansy wouldn't have recognized him, which brought up another issue. What if James _did_ go to Hogwarts and already hated him? He was a bit of a prat to people there, but only because he was in a constant bad mood from dealing with Potter's rejections and his father's ambitions for him. It hardly seemed fair to judge him on that alone, but maybe James had seen a different light to him, after all, they were each other's firsts now and that had to mean something.

A pang in his heart reminded him that he'd been saving himself for Harry, but he ignored it. Harry Potter would never like him, not for all the Galleons in the world, so he needed to be mature about it and move on. With this in mind, Draco cast a Charm on James' wand so that would alert him when the boy was nearby and he stuffed the wand in his pocket along side his own. Part of him wanted to sit outside Ollivander's until James arrived to buy a new wand, but that would be a waste of time if the boy never showed up and he would look a might ridiculous sitting outside the store for a whole week, Ollivander would probably chase him off. James probably bought his wands at a different store anyway. Draco's mind still lingered on why he'd never seen James before; they were the same age after all, they should have been in the same year. What if the boy was using a disguise like he had and had looked similar to Harry on purpose? Who wouldn't want to look like Harry, he was the sexiest boy in Hogwarts – apart from himself, naturally, but Draco couldn't very well go around snogging himself in dark corridors. What if James was in reality a hideous creature… or Longbottom?

Draco groaned as the thought of losing his virginity to Neville Longbottom filled his mind. After shuddering, Draco regained his calm; he banished his preposterous thought and renewed his pledge to find James again. Hopefully James would attend Hogwarts and Draco would be able to find him once he returned, if not, Draco could find a reason to visit the other magical schools until he did. He wouldn't stop until he found his new love, even if James was an ugly Hufflepuff.

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The final week of summer went by excruciatingly slowly for Harry, and, as he boarded the train to school, he felt different than he had any other year he'd ridden the Hogwarts Express. He sat with his friends as he toyed with a borrowed wand that he'd found wrapped in his cupboard with a note from Sirius. Ron was beside him telling him about the Death Eater threat his family had received over the break and, though this troubled Harry greatly, he couldn't seem to focus on his friend because the knowledge that he'd had sex with a beautiful rock star was weighing heavily upon him. He hadn't been able to stop smiling - not through the bus ride home from London, not through the hour long walk to Privet drive, not even while his Aunt and Uncle berated him for his absence.

He desperately hoped he'd see Abraxas again, but his hopes were limited. Even if he did, Abraxas would then know that he wasn't really James at all, but Harry Potter, the boy who was scheduled to kill Voldemort any moment now. He hadn't seen his godfather since that night so he had no idea if he'd botched up the destiny the man referred to by sleeping with Abraxas. Even if he had though, Harry couldn't bring himself to worry about it.

It wasn't until he disembarked the Thestral drawn carriage and headed toward the Great Hall for the start of the year feast that Harry began to get a sense of foreboding.

Hermione and Ron were on either side of him and there was another group of Gryffindors trailing in behind them when a trio of Slytherins slinked passed them. Harry caught sight of a shock of blond hair and momentarily thought it was Abraxas. The boy turned, however, and Harry was met with a sad smile from his longest enemy Draco Malfoy, which quickly changed to a sneer as he took off for the Slytherin table.

Harry couldn't believe that the boy he'd slept with, and practically fallen in love with, bore so many resemblances to his childhood nemesis. He was so focused on the similarities in their hair and eyes that he almost didn't notice Draco stop short and stare down at his own pocket like there was something peculiar happening inside it. Harry soon tore his gaze away from the odd scene and went to his own House table and planted himself between Hermione and Ron.

During the welcoming feast, Harry couldn't keep his eyes off of Malfoy and the necessity to stare seemed to have transferred to the other boy as well since their eyes kept meeting across the Great Hall. It wasn't until the feast was nearly through that Harry looked up to see Malfoy holding a glowing, vibrating object; it didn't take him long to recognize what it was.

His missing wand.

How did Malfoy have it? He'd left it in Abraxas' room, could Malfoy and Abraxas somehow be related? Were he and Abraxas having a big laugh about Harry and their intimate moment together? The idea incensed Harry and he stared daggers at the blond who looked somewhat surprised by Harry's sudden rage.

The moment the feast was over, Harry struggled through the crowd filing out to their dormitories and he grabbed Draco roughly and dragged him down a lesser-used corridor. "Care to explain to me how you have my wand, Malfoy?" Harry asked and the blond balked.

"_Your_ wand?" he asked, looking both confused and slightly delighted.

"Yes, _my_ wand," Harry repeated with narrowed eyes. "Why is it in _your_ hand?"

"Because it was left in my care," he replied cautiously. "If this is yours, prove it."

Harry snatched it from Malfoy's grasp and held it aloft. The wand glowed a brilliant green in his grasp and Draco shot him a smile, something Harry hadn't been expecting as a response. "What are you smiling abo-" Harry began, but his words were cut off by Draco's lips.

If Harry hadn't been expecting Malfoy to react to him with a smile, he certainly didn't expect the boy to kiss him in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor. He assumed this was all part of some nasty trick, just like stealing his wand. He roughly shoved the boy away, even though the blond's lips had felt oddly familiar and warm against his own.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" he snarled, not in the mood for games. If Malfoy had his wand it meant Abraxas had given it to him, which meant the boy he'd lost his virginity to was a complete fraud.

"You're an idiot, Potter," Malfoy replied, but he was still beaming. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out?" Harry demanded. "That you're a prat, and so is Abraxas?"

Draco winced and shrugged. "If he is then I would have to be… James," the boy replied.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You know that it was me, you know that I'm the one who stupidly fell for a rock star, that I'm the git who actually fucked a boy who had been lying to me the whole time. So, what are you going to do about it? Tell the whole school? I don't care!" he shouted.

"Why would I do that?" Malfoy laughed, finding great amusement in Harry's confusion. "Harry, Abraxas has been in love with you for years."

"No, he told me he was in love with a boy at school who looked…just…like me," he stammered, suddenly realizing how dim he'd been. "All that time he was talking about me?"

"Yes, all that time I was talking about you, then come to find out it was you all along," Draco told him, his eyes boring through Harry's widened gaze.

"You," he whispered and took a step back. "I slept with _you_?"

"Among other things," Draco replied, but he didn't look quite as triumphant as he had a moment before.

"Ron's going to kill me," Harry whispered, rubbing the heels of his hands roughly into his eyes.

"Because you fucked the enemy?" Draco grumbled bitterly and Harry sighed and shook his head.

"No," he replied at last, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Because I'm in love with the enemy."

Draco gasped slightly at Harry's admission before pulling the boy against him. This time Harry came willingly and nearly melted into the blond's embrace. "I'm so happy that I lost my virginity to you after all," Draco breathed against Harry's lips.

"What, were you saving it for me or something?" he teased, but Draco grew quiet and still in his arms. "You were?" he asked incredulously. Draco was like a perfectly carved marble statue, tall, proud, beautiful; why would someone like him ever fantasize about a poor little orphan? How could Draco want Cinderfella?

"How could I not?" Draco replied, and his words seemed to provide the answer to both the spoken and unspoken questions Harry had for him. "You're clever… usually," he added with a smirk and Harry swatted him playfully, "you're stunning, you're brave and powerful. I've loved you for ages, Harry."

"Then why have you always been cruel?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling the full weight of whose arms were wrapped around him.

"You chose Weasley over me; you've rejected me at every turn. You sought out Chang and the Weaselette for romantic companionship, how was I to know I ever stood a chance?" he asked, his eyes betraying the frustration he'd felt.

Harry wouldn't waste any more time with words and explanations. This was his destiny after all, so it had to work itself out in the end, right? Instead, he kissed the blond with an abandon he'd never felt before and Draco moaned against him. "You'll always belong to me, Harry," Draco whispered when they broke apart and Harry smiled. He had always wanted to be important to someone for more than just his name or his scar, and now he was.

With an unabashed grin, Harry pulled Draco out into the bustling corridor nearby. They drew the stares of several students, and he knew the rumors would be flying by morning, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd shucked the sooty garb of Cinderfella and how he had his Prince Charming. Nothing could be better.

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Albus Dumbledore shifted to get a better look at the two smitten boys in the corridor. Students were spilling in around them but Albus could tell that Draco and Harry only had eyes for each other now, which was as it should be. A shimmer to his left caught his eyes and Dumbledore smiled playfully and beckoned the hovering form to his side. "I take it everything went according to plan," Dumbledore asked, seemingly to no one at all.

The students around him took little notice, they were quite used to thinking their Headmaster was mad. "In a manner of speaking," the mostly invisible form answered. "Are you going to tell me now why I had to set Harry and Draco up to fall in love?"

"It was going to happen with or without your assistance, Sirius, your help merely pushed it in the right direction when we needed young Malfoy's help the most. Their union now will save Harry's life during the final battle," Dumbledore mused.

"How do you know that?" Sirius asked from under his invisibility cloak.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with mischievous light and he raised a thick gray eyebrow. "How is it that I know anything?" he asked and Sirius rolled his eyes even though the Headmaster would never see him.

"But you said they would have fallen in love regardless," Sirius pointed out.

"They would have, but it would have been too late. They would have fallen in love when Harry saved his life during battle, but that would have left his back exposed to Voldemort and Harry would have died right there in Draco's arms. Now, Draco will stand beside him and together they will bring Tom Riddle down," he explained.

"And then I'll get to see him again?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"Yes, Sirius. Once the battle is done then we can reveal the fact that I helped you escape from the veil and you and Harry will be united once and for all," Dumbledore assured the man.

"With no more interfering from _you_," Sirius added and Albus raised his hands defensively, showing that there was nothing up his robe sleeves.

"I'm sure Draco will take to you as well, he is half Black after all," Albus mused. "Their wedding will be an event to remember."

"Whatever crystal ball you're reading, I want a peek," Sirius muttered and Dumbledore chuckled lightly.

"I'm not sure you could handle the weight it would put upon your shoulders, Sirius, but I can tell you this," he began and Sirius looked over at him expectantly. "They live happily ever after."

FIN

Author's Note: Haha. In my perfect world, Harry would still have Sirius and of course Draco. lol. Next up is The Little Mermaid, which I'm nearly done with.


	6. The Little Mermaid: Part 1

Author's Note: Many thanks to Laurel and Shannon for beta-reading the story and for all of those who requested it and to Shannon for helping me shape it in my head. I struggled with how it would work for a bit, but her ideas set it loose. As with the faerie tales I've posted so far, this story will be vastly different from any of the originals, but my goal is to merge both the darkness and the light from both.

The Little Mermaid - Part 1

End of the year feasts were never something Harry looked forward to, and this year was no exception. In fact, with the untimely death of his Godfather, the last thing Harry wanted to do was celebrate. The food was always good of course; fragrant roasted meats, buttery vegetables and mouthwatering desserts all hovered along every House table, waiting for the students to dig in. Harry's plate was rather meager since he didn't have much of an appetite, Ron's was heaping as was usual for him –even on a non-feast day- and Hermione's plate was somewhere in between, full but manageable.

But no, it wasn't the food that made the end of the year feasts a depressing time for Harry, nor was it the announcing of the House Cup winner that year –Gryffindor again, of course- and it certainly wasn't the fact that Draco Malfoy was boring a hole into Harry's skull from across the room, because Harry had barely noticed the boy's attentions. No, it was the fact that in a couple of days' time Harry would be back on the Hogwarts Express and back at the Dursley's, which was so far from where he wanted to be while mourning the death of Sirius.

The banners hung above every table in red and gold to symbolize the winner of the Cup, though he was happy to have defeated Umbridge and Voldemort yet again, his heart wasn't at ease as he felt it should have been after such trials were long behind him.

He had been so close to being free from the Dursleys. With Sirius' name cleared, Harry could have gone to stay with his godfather instead of remaining cooped up on Privet Drive, but now that option was gone. He missed Sirius so much it often became overwhelming, and not just because of who the man was -not that Sirius Black wasn't an amazing fellow- but because of what his godfather symbolized. Freedom. The kind he only felt when flying through the air on his broom.

It was this freedom that he was thinking about when he took his first sip of pumpkin juice, a juice that tasted more bitter than usual. Harry grimaced as he swallowed it down and almost immediately wished he had spat it out. It only took that one sip to begin the transformation, one sip to send his legs tingling and his heart racing, one sip to change the rest of his life.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron called across the table with a mouthful of food.

"There's something wrong with my legs," Harry exclaimed, his voice filled with panic.

Hermione ducked her head under the table and when she came back up she looked a little pale. "Harry, your legs are turning green and scaly."

Ron's eyes went wide and he dropped the chip he'd been about to shove into his mouth so that he could pop his head under the table as well. "Blimey, Harry!" he gasped, unreassuringly.

Harry could feel what was happening to him, he didn't need to see it. Under the table his legs were knitting together to form a green fish tail. Slowly but surely, Harry was becoming a merman.

"Headmaster!" Hermione shrieked, trying to get Dumbledore's attention at the vast staff table. The man looked up at her and rushed right over, gasping as he saw Harry's new fishy state. Other students began to stare and gather around, the Slytherin's all found Harry's state more than just a tad humorous, while everyone else seemed either intrigued or disgusted by the transformation. Only the Headmaster and his two best friends seemed concerned about this new development.

Dumbledore summoned Snape to his side and silently issued the man an order. Begrudgingly, Snape scooped Harry up in his arms and together, followed closely by Hermione and Ron; they whisked Harry away toward the Prefects bathroom.

Snape quickly deposited the Gryffindor into the warm tub and stepped away as if being so close to Harry for such a long period of time was vastly distasteful and might have left him with some kind of contagious illness. He looked as though he was debating cleaning his hands off on his robe when Dumbledore cleared his throat, giving him a sharp look before redirecting his attention to the ailing boy.

"Harry, how did this happen?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes not holding their usual twinkle.

"I'm not certain, but I think someone slipped something into my pumpkin juice," Harry complained. "It tasted bitter."

"Mr. Weasley, go and fetch Mr. Potter's goblet this instant and bring it here straightaway," Dumbledore instructed and Ron took off running.

"Is there anything else you can recall, anything out of the ordinary that might have happened just before you became… aquatic?" Dumbledore asked.

"Nothing, Sir. I hadn't even eaten yet," Harry admitted.

Dumbledore turned away and began consulting with Snape in hushed tones while Hermione came over to the edge of the enormous tub to further inspect her friend. "Can I see it?" she asked and Harry wiggled slightly before flopping the flippery appendage up onto the tile beside where she sat.

Her fingers grazed over the scaled flesh and her mouth hung open in awe. "Harry, it's beautiful." And it was. It was deep emerald in color, just like his eyes, and it shined a brilliant rainbow of colors depending on how the light reflected off of it. The tail seemed wispy and faded from that deep green into a topaz blue at the tips. The flesh itself was muscled and toned, just like the rest of Harry's body, and the green scales began to taper off just below his belly button, giving way to Harry's taut abdomen.

Hermione had always been a bit intimidated by Harry's looks; in fact, she'd had a crush on him since the moment they met on the train. He seemed wild to her, so unlike what he had been used to after being brought up in a house full of dentists. She knew early on that there was something different about Harry, something that would keep him from ever returning her affection, although she hadn't figured out what it was until recently.

"Why don't _you _grow a tail then if you think it's so beautiful," Harry muttered darkly. He didn't like this, not one bit. He was a freak all over again, only this was so much worse than a wimpy scar on his forehead.

"I already had one in Second Year, remember?" she quipped. "Only my cat tail was nothing compared to this, Harry. This is magnificent."

"I suppose that means I'll be quite the love magnet now, hm?" he asked bitterly, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable. "Only there will be no way to follow through," he added, gesturing to his lack of sexual organs.

"Oh dear!" Hermione gasped, her eyes going wide at the implications. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't think."

Harry rolled his eyes and slinked back into the water, pulling the wet robes and shirt from his chest and lobbing them into the corner where they landed with a loud splat. He floated there in the warm bath water, his hair soaked, his glasses off, and his body the image of perfection, and Hermione knew what she'd be dreaming about for many months to come.

Ron was out of breath when he arrived back with two familiar shoes and some torn trousers. "The tables had been cleared, Sir, but I did grab these," he said, trying to sound more helpful than he knew he was being.

The Potions Master sneered down at him and gave Dumbledore a knowing look. "Someone in this school is responsible for this, but they couldn't have acted alone. Even I can't think of a single potion or incantation that would do this to a boy."

"Curious," Dumbledore muttered vaguely. "Very curious. Well, Harry. I think you'll have to stay here tonight. We'll lock up so none of the students can get to you, but we can't have your tail drying out. It might cause irreparable damage to your legs if we do find a cure."

"_If?_" Harry squeaked, unwilling to accept that he might remain like this for the rest of his life. How would he fight Voldemort like this, how would he finish school like this, how would be become an Auror like this, and worse, how would he ever lose his virginity without a cock?

"_When_, My Boy. Of course, I meant when," he muttered, unconvincingly and shuffled out with Snape following closely behind.

Harry sighed and sank beneath the water's surface, thinking that perhaps drowning might just be the easier solution, but even that method of escape eluded him. A sharp pain laced through his neck and Harry grabbed it, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh and quickly discovering he now had gills, so he could breathe perfectly underwater.

With a roll of his eyes, he swam back up and lifted his torso out of the bath, noticing that the gills receded and allowed him to breathe oxygen normally. "This is ridiculous!" he shouted, pounding his fists into the water, causing the liquid to splash up on his friends. "Sorry," he muttered, but Ron and Hermione both remained unfazed.

"I'm sure Snape will find something tomorrow," Hermione assured.

"I'm sure if it were up to Snape he'd let me stay like this forever," Harry countered.

"Well, lucky for you then, it's up to Dumbledore, not Snape," she bit back. She knew Harry was having a time of it, but she didn't think he needed to be so rude to the people who were trying to help him,

"I guess," Harry muttered darkly. "You two should go. I'm sure everyone is waiting to ambush you in the common room."

"They'll only want to know how you are. We can stay here with you if you'd prefer?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah," Harry sighed. "I'd be rubbish company tonight. Maybe you can check on me before you get on the train tomorrow?"

"Of course, Harry," Ron and Hermione replied in unison, as if leaving without seeing how Harry was doing was ever an option.

"Night then," Harry called, waving to his friends as they disappeared through the door, locking it behind them.

"What am I going to do now?" Harry sighed to himself before drifting to the bottom of the bath where he fell into a fitful sleep.

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"Well, he can't just sit in a bathtub all day," Severus growled.

"I'm well aware of that, Severus," Dumbledore shot back, Harry had never seen the elderly man so angry, not even in the throws of battle with Voldemort a few weeks back.

They had been arguing back and forth for hours over what to do with him. An entire week had passed and they were no closer to an answer now than they had been after the feast. The students were long gone, Hermione and Ron bid Harry a fond farewell and told him to write when he was back to normal and they would come and break him out of the Dursley's.

Now, Dumbledore had to leave to spend some time at the Ministry and Snape didn't want to be charged with looking after Harry in his current form. "If someone on their side hears of this, you know it's just a matter of time before Death Eaters are knocking down our doors."

"I'm aware, Severus," Dumbledore intoned. "In fact, I'm also aware that this was probably his doing to start with. I can't leave him here alone, the Black Lake is far too dangerous, and you haven't found a cure yet. What is it you suggest I do?" he asked, sounding exasperated.

"I suggest we take him to Atlantis."

The word hung in the air as Harry blinked, trying to make sure he heard the Potions Master correctly. Dumbledore was obviously not surprised at the suggestion as he sighed dramatically and said, "I suppose that's the only option left to us, though I hate for it to come to that."

"It will only be while I work on an antidote, and the Merpeople of Atlantis are by far the most civilized of the Mercities we have access to," Snape reasoned.

"Atlantis really exists?" Harry asked, still unbelieving. The two men turned to him as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"Of course it does. Muggles would have found it by now if they knew where to look, it's just off the coast of Fiji," Snape snapped as if everyone should know that.

"Of course, _Fiji_," Harry replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

"So, how will I get to Atlantis?" Harry asked, fearing he might be forced to swim all the way to Fiji; he didn't even know the way.

"We can Apparate you," Dumbledore said. "They have a dry receiving chamber."

This was all just too much to absorb; first, turning into a merman, then the possibility he just might stay that way, add in a trip to Atlantis and Harry was more than just a little overwhelmed. Anything had to be better than sitting in this tub day in and day out, though, so Harry was ready to try anything at this point. "So, when do we leave?"

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The dry receiving chamber in Atlantis was not much more than a ten-by-ten room of thick green glass. Dumbledore had cleared their arrival beforehand and the Merpeople were ready to meet Harry. On one side of the room was what looked to be a hatch that led to an overgrown bubble, and Dumbledore led him over to it, opened the glass door and placed him inside. "This will take you directly to the palace where someone will collect you and show you where you can stay. Severus and I will be working diligently to fix this, Harry. I promise you that."

Harry nodded, and, unsure of what else to say to the old Headmaster, shut the door behind himself. With a flick of Dumbledore's wand, the bubble jerked to life and zipped across the ocean floor. It was quite a sight, and Harry was mesmerized by the colorful coral and fish that swam by him. He was paying such close attention to a bright orange angel fish that he didn't see what appeared to be a sheer drop on the cliff he was navigating until he was right on it.

Harry screamed, but the bubble didn't drop as he had expected, instead it floated down gently and, when Harry looked below him, he could see a glittering, green city looming in the distance. The bubble seemed to take forever to arrive, but Harry could see that everything was clean and beautiful as he passed through the glistening city toward the palace at the center.

They seemed to have everything; banks, markets, schools –anything one could think of in a city on dry land, Harry could see right there in Atlantis. When the bubble finally skidded to a halt on the palace stairs, a Merman drifted up and placed his hand against it, making the contraption pop like a real bubble. Harry panicked as the water rushed in on him and he struggled to breathe for a moment as his gills reformed, but he soon became used to it and was able to relax.

The Merman was tall and bulky, his skin was dark and Polynesian looking and his eyes were a deep sapphire blue like the ocean that surrounded them. He offered his hand to Harry and he shook it reluctantly, noticing how firm of a hold the man had.

"My name is Faar," he told Harry in a deep voice, and Harry was pleasantly surprised that he could understand the man. "You, I presume are Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded and smiled, as much as he could underwater. It still felt odd to be a merman, every action seemed to be exaggerated in the water and his body was already feeling the strain of fighting the current. He supposed he'd get used to it, but he really didn't want to be in this form long enough to do so. "I am."

"Our King had instructed me to take you to your quarters and introduce you to some of our kind. Dumbledore wasn't sure how long you'd be staying, so we want you to be comfortable while you're here," Faar told him.

His room was a pale aquamarine and everything was made of glass, making the ocean around him seem like a lively wallpaper. Fish swam up to the walls and then away again when Harry approached them, and Harry had a brief moment of thinking that he could get used to this beautiful place. His bed was a pearly white shell, the largest he'd ever seen and it was inlaid with thin membranes that he guessed were supposed to be blankets –that part he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to.

Faar hung back in the doorway while Harry inspected the room. He really didn't have any luggage to drop off or anything, so he just turned back to his host and thanked him. "The room is lovely, just perfect." He was nervous because he had no idea what Merpeople customs were and he didn't want to accidentally offend anyone with his lack of knowledge.

He was brought to a large dining hall where Faar introduced him to a woman with long red hair, a boy slightly younger than him that was apparently her son, and a girl his age who leered at Harry as if he were something edible. The girl distinctly reminded him of Ginny and it gave him the creeps.

"Harry, this is Ariel and her children, Sebastian and Alana," Faar told him. "If you need anything during your stay here, do not hesitate to ask."

"I could show you around now if you'd like, Harry?" Alana told him, slinking over to float beside him.

Harry swallowed thickly and shook his head. "Er, I think I'm alright now."

The girl looked disappointed but nodded. "After dinner then," she promised.

He didn't get a chance to respond before she pulled him over to their table and he was staring down at a plate full of some kind of slimy, green substance. "What is it?" he asked, poking it with the fork laid out beside him.

"Kelp," she told him cheerfully before leaning in and whispering in his ear. "Don't worry if you don't like it, it's only the first course."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and tasted a bite before swallowing it and vowing not to put another bite in his mouth. Beside him Alana chuckled softly. The next course was brought and Harry almost lost the bite of kelp he'd tried. There on a shiny silver platter was a spiked fish like nothing he'd ever seen before. He found the skin quite tough, and when he tried to slice into it, thick black ink oozed out.

"Here, let me help you," Alana offered, holding her hand over Harry's and slicing off a different piece of the fish. It was bitter and tasted terrible; it took all Harry's willpower not to spit it out as well. He was going to starve as a Merman!

"I think," Harry began, affecting a very tired expression, "that the trip might have worn me out more than I expected. I think I might retire if that's okay."

Faar nodded to him, a man of few words and Ariel smiled. "Of course, Harry. We understand how odd this all must be for you. We'll see you tomorrow then, can you find your way back to your room?"

"I'll take him!" Alana volunteered before Harry could answer for himself.

They swam along in silence while his thoughts drifted to what he'd be doing if he hadn't suddenly grown a tail. He supposed this was better than the Dursley's, though at least on Privet Drive he was able to sneak food. He glanced over at Alana who was watching him out of the corner of her eye. She really was quite lovely; none of the Merpeople looked anything like the ones in the Black Lake, they looked more like humans with tails, more like him.

"You have an exquisite tail, Harry," the girl said when they reached his doorway.

"Er, thanks," he whispered, not sure what else to say. "Your hair is pretty."

The girl seemed to absorb the comment and blushed sweetly. She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and he let her, but backed away when she gasped. "Oh dear," she cried. "Oh dear, I've done it again."

A great sigh escaped her lips and Harry looked at her quizzically. "Done what?"

"I always seem to be attracted to boys who will never like me back. You don't like girls at all do you? I thought you were just shy, but you're just like the other one, the one who likes boys," she sighed.

"What!?" Harry exclaimed. "I do so like girls."

"That's what he said as well but when I tried to kiss him it felt off," she pouted. "Why are all the lovely boys gay?"

"I'm not… I'm not gay," Harry protested.

"Then kiss me back," she challenged so Harry did. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers and… nothing.

She slumped in his arms and floated back a bit. "See," she prompted.

"I'm just tired," he corrected and she nodded in a placating manner.

"Tomorrow I can take you to shore if you'd like," she offered. "We can try and find some food that's more appealing to you."

"Okay," he replied, eager for their current uncomfortable conversation to be over.

"Sweet dreams," she called back to him as she swam down the hall. She seemed to have found something in her words funny because he could hear her giggling as she left.

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Sleep didn't come easy to Harry that evening because he was starving and everything seemed peculiar. The ocean, as deep down as they were, didn't really get any lighter or darker and there was an endless stream of activity around his room. Eventually he must have drifted off, because a sharp knock on his door woke him up and he opened it to find Alana waiting for him in the hall.

"Ready to go?" she asked, far too chipper for Harry's taste.

"I guess," he replied, stretching and yawning widely. Her eyes were on him the entire time and she sighed like Ron would on the occasions that Harry beat him at chess.

"If only you weren't gay," she said and Harry shot her a look that told her to drop the subject.

They left the palace, Harry marveling at the scenery as they swam by, and then up toward a large coral reef where Alana pointed out some of the different fish and strange creatures Harry had never seen before. It was hard to imagine everything being so vibrant and colorful underwater. When he swam in the Black Lake for the tournament, the water was murky and easily lived up to its name; it was not nearly so beautifuas.

"Alana?" Harry asked, trying to catch her attention. She was ahead of him inspecting some clams when he finally reached her. "Can I ask you an odd question?"

"Sure, Harry," she replied with a smile.

"How do your kind… well, how do you have children?" he asked. The idea was baffling to him, and he couldn't comprehend it.

He'd never seen anyone laugh so hard in his life. "Are you asking how we have sex?"

"I guess so," he muttered, blushing furiously.

"I could show you," she purred seductively, rubbing her tail against his sensuously, "if you weren't gay," she added before swimming away in a blur of bubbles.

"I'm not gay!" Harry shouted after her and struggled to catch up.

When he did she was still snickering to herself, and he frowned at her unhappily. She seemed unbothered by his mood though, and playfully flicked her tail at him before answering his original question. "If we go on land our tails disappear, but only for an hour or so. We have to return to the water quickly after that because without water we'd die."

"Oh," Harry replied. "That won't work with me." He knew because he was perfectly dry when he got the tail.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Pretty sure," he replied with a faint blush.

"Well, I suppose it's good that you're not attracted to me anyhow," she mused, a delicate smirk on her face. "Because that would be quite tragic for both of us."

Harry rolled his eyes and she took off again, leading the way to shore. As they swam, Harry got used to his new tail and he was mostly able to keep up with Alana, who was actually quite swift. The water grew shallower and brighter and soon Harry was able to easily touch the surface and the bottom at once. He peeked up out of the water to see a vast expanse of pearly white beach and a long dock that had a large hut at the end practically floating on the water.

Alana swam over to it and Harry followed until they reached a set of stairs that led from the ocean up to a porch attached to the thatched bungalow.

"Lover," she called and Harry looked at her skeptically. "Don't worry," she whispered to Harry, "this is the boy I told you about last night, the one who likes boys."

Harry groaned and tried to slink away, but Alana held him still. Eventually the door to the opened and a young man came out and kneeled on the deck. "Alana," he greeted and then he got a look at Harry who was staring up at the boy in abject horror. "Potter?"

"Malfoy," Harry hissed. He couldn't believe his luck. Even during the summer on the other side of the globe Harry couldn't escape his school rival. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" Draco replied haughtily. "This is my summer home."

"This shack?" Harry interrupted and Malfoy sneered back at him.

"No, that large manor on the hill," he responded, pointing to a resplendent manor home that could house the entire Hogwarts student body comfortably. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore sent me to Atlantis," Harry replied sullenly. He couldn't believe he was stuck making small talk with Malfoy.

"Atlantis huh? Is it cool?" he asked, and the question seemed so casual it was like it was coming from Ron and not his worst enemy.

"Yeah, it is," Harry replied lightly. "Grow a tail and we can take you."

Draco laughed, and then he gaped slightly, apparently unaware of what Harry had been talking about. "You… that's right. You have a tail. I thought for sure Severus would have fixed you by now."

"Me too," Harry sighed, the loss of his legs distracted him from his animosity toward the blond.

"Lover," Alana piped in after watching their exchange. Harry watched Draco blush at the title and Harry thought for sure Alana was mad if she thought he was gay. The boy was obviously aroused. "Aren't you good at potions?"

"Yes," he answered hesitantly.

"Well, I think you should help Harry find a cure," she replied, obviously proud of herself for thinking of it.

"But… isn't Severus working on it?" he asked, directing his question to Harry.

"Wouldn't it go faster if there were two people working to fix him?" Alana said, ignoring what Harry had to say on the matter.

A slow smirk curled his lips and he climbed down to the bottom stair so that he bare legs were in the water and his head was nearly level with Harry's. It was odd seeing Malfoy in shorts, Harry decided. He didn't think he ever had before, and there was certainly nothing bad about his legs, or his chest for that matter, which was only covered by a thin gray tank top.

"Do you want my help, Potter?" he asked, looking quite mischievous.

"I want my legs back," he replied noncommittally.

"And what payment would I receive for rendering my services to you?" Draco pressed.

"He'll have sex with you," Alana chimed in and both boys looked at her with wide eyes, Harry's angry and Draco's appalled.

"Alana," Harry hissed. "I know you like to tease me but that's just not funny."

"I accept," Draco blurted, surprising them all. "If I find you your cure, I get as my own for a single night."

"No. No way. I didn't agree to that," Harry protested, his cheeks a deep crimson.

"Oh come on, Harry," Alana replied. "What's the big deal? You're gay, Draco's gay, if I can't have sex with either of you then you should at least have sex with each other," she huffed.

"It seems your pimp has spoken, Potter," Draco replied with a handsome smile and a deep chuckle.

"Why do you even care?" Harry asked Alana, who just shrugged and smiled.

Draco stood up and sloshed back up the stairs to his hut. "I'll get started tonight after Father goes to sleep. Meet me back here just after sunset, okay?"

Harry stared openmouthed at the boy he hated with every fiber of his being. There was no way he was going to let that boy have something else to tease him about in school, no fucking way. He just wouldn't come back here again and he would have to hope that Snape found a cure very, very soon.

"He'll be here, even if I have to drag him here myself," Alana promised and then began to pull Harry away before he could call her a liar.

"See you tonight, Potter," Draco called, a wicked smirk on his face.

-------------------------------------------------

"I'm not going," Harry told Alana for the hundredth time that night. He was hungry and exhausted and he didn't even want to think about a nude Draco coming after him. A shiver rolled down his spine and he looked at his new friend with deep disgust. "How could you do that to me? I hate Draco Malfoy."

"Could have fooled me," she teased. "I saw the way your eyes took him in like he was a glorious sunset."

"I did no such thing," Harry bit back scathingly.

"Oh hush, Harry. Draco's a god among men, that hair, that skin, those eyes," she sighed. "If I didn't know better I would say he was half Siren."

"No, he's just one half arse, and the other half hole," Harry muttered.

"And which half do you like? The arse, or the hole?" Alana taunted.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" Harry sighed. He wondered if all the fish women were so promiscuous or if he'd been sidled with the only one.

"You swam into it actually," she replied, her grin unwavering.

"You're the funniest mermaid ever," Harry told her sarcastically, "but I'm still not going to meet Malfoy."

"You should at least meet him so he can bring you food," she reasoned and his growling stomach agreed with her point.

"Fine, I'll go, but only for the food and to tell him not to bother with an antidote. I'm in no mood to let Draco Malfoy humiliate me any further then I'm already going to have to deal with," Harry replied firmly.

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Harry was waiting by the deck while Alana searched a pool nearby for something, what he had no idea. She tried to explain it to him but he didn't understand. When Draco came waltzing down the dock, Harry's breath caught. He wore a pair of black linen shorts and nothing else and the moon made his skin look phosphorescent. Their gazes met and Draco smiled softly for a moment before it slipped into his trademark smirk.

"So, I see you're keen to go through with our little deal?" he asked, hopping into the water beside where Harry floated.

"No, I came to tell you that you needn't bother, and to see if you maybe had any real food up here," Harry added, hoping he didn't sound like he was begging.

"I see," Draco replied with a look on his face that Harry couldn't quite discern. "I have some fruit up in the hut. I'll be right back."

Draco disappeared and returned into the water with an apple, which he handed over to Harry, who devoured it as if it was the most delicious thing in the world. "Thanks," he said when he'd finished. "I guess I'll head back now. If Snape gets me all fixed up in time, I'll see you in school."

"Do you know how to get back?" Draco asked.

"No, but Alana does," Harry replied, looking puzzled; he didn't understand why Draco would ask him that.

"I'm sure she does, but she's left you here," Draco told him, a faint smile on his lips.

"No, she's just over-" he began, but he turned around to see her far away in the distance and waving at him before she dove under the water and disappeared. "I can't believe her," Harry sighed. "She's got to be the most meddlesome mermaid ever."

"She's nice," Draco corrected. "I'm sure she's just having a bit of fun. She'll come and fetch you in the morning."

"And until then?" Harry asked, wondering what he was going to do. He didn't trust his sense of direction in the water to get him all the way back to Atlantis.

"I'll keep you company," Draco offered, "if you want," he quickly amended.

"Er, yeah, okay," Harry replied. For some reason he couldn't stop blushing in front of the blond. "It would be nice to hang out with someone familiar."

There was an awkward moment of silence between them and then Draco cleared his throat. "So, I know that Alana was only teasing earlier about you and I," Draco told him. "She's mischievous that one. I wouldn't mind helping you with that antidote though. I like a good challenge; besides I did some research and I think I can cure you. All the ingredients are right around here too."

"Really?" Harry asked, suddenly excited, but that excitement quickly gave way to doubt. This helpful boy was nothing like the Malfoy he knew. "What would you want in return?" he asked skeptically.

"Amnesty for my family," Draco replied. "We're defecting and we already have to worry about Voldemort's wrath. We don't want to worry about Dumbledore and the Ministry as well."

"What could I do?" Harry asked, confused.

"Come on, Harry. You have more pull with both of them than anyone I know. The Minister himself would get down on his knees and suck your cock if you asked him to."

Harry grimaced at the crude imagery and tried to banish the new image that popped into his mind of the very same situation, only with a platinum blond head bobbing up and down in his lap. "I would do what I could of course, but I couldn't promise anything," Harry replied at last. "Although, just the report that you saved me might do you a world of good."

"True," Draco mused, the gears in his mind moving behind those smoldering eyes. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still have to find the ingredients."

"Do you really know what this is?" Harry asked, and his tone held more hope than he wanted to admit to the blond he'd just formed a reluctant alliance with.

"I think so, we really can't be sure until we try it though," he admitted. "So, I've made this list of what we'll need," he mentioned, handing it to Harry, who scanned it at once.

"Crown of thorns starfish, komodo dragon venom, green sea turtle eggs; how hard is this stuff going to be to find?" Harry asked. He'd only read the first three of nearly twenty ingredients on the list.

"I already have a few of them in my personal ingredients store, but the rest are going to be easier for you to find than for me," he mentioned, "since most of them are underwater."

"How will I know what to get?" Harry wondered allowed. The list was both impressive and intimidating. Harry had never even heard of some of these items, let alone seen a picture of them to be able to recognize any of them if he had. They seemed very exotic.

"Some of them are simple, the kelp for instance, any kelp will do so long as it's fresh, but some of the specific ones I can help you with. I'll take my father's boat out and I'll be able to join you in the water for a bit sometimes," he informed Harry, who smiled despite himself.

"Will you have a tail?" Harry asked cheekily.

"I think I'll leave that particular trademark to you, Potter," he remarked with a faint smirk. "Although, I must say, it rather suits you." Harry rolled his eyes and snapped his tail up to splash Draco in the face. As the blond sputtered and wiped the saltwater from his eyes, Harry snickered. "Oh, Potter, my mouth was open. Now my tongue is all salty," the blond complained and Harry resisted the urge to ask the boy to prove it.

"So, are these ingredients anything we can look for tonight?" Harry asked, briskly changing the subject.

"I doubt it," Draco replied, his lips pursed in thought. "It's too dark."

"So, then what do we do until Alana?" Harry asked, a deep yawn emerging through his protesting lips.

"It looks like you're tired. Should I leave you? You can sleep here near the dock, nothing should bother you there," Draco informed him.

Harry shook his head and adamantly denied he was at all sleepy. He motioned toward the beach, and Draco followed down the boardwalk, his pale feet sinking into soft white sand as he walked toward where Harry had swam up on shore. Just his tail was in the water, while his tanned torso was emerged, Harry had his back in the sand and his eyes staring up into the starry night.

It was so beautiful out there on an island in the middle of nowhere. Most of the lights in the nearby manor were extinguished so there was nothing to compete with the white brilliance of the stars up above, except for maybe the creamy white of Draco's skin, or the golden luminescence of his hair.

"So, why is your family defecting?" Harry asked, trying to clear the lusty thoughts from his mind with more realistic conversation. Even if something were to happen between them out here on this island, it would be more like a dream. Once they returned to Hogwarts all would go back to normal, of this he was certain. Draco would go on in his Slytherin ways and continue to remind Harry why he asked to be placed in a different house.

"I think the Dark Lord's madness would be something obvious to escape," Draco muttered.

"I would have thought it an obvious reason not to join forces with him in the first place," Harry countered, but Draco only shrugged.

"I've only heard stories of the man up until recently. Father used to preach about him as if he were some great messiah, at least until the Dark Lord returned. Now Father's just afraid of him like everyone else. Whether the Dark Lord is different now than he was during his first reign, or whether my father is, I cannot say for sure," Draco replied. Harry marveled at how eloquent the blond always seemed to be. It was something to aspire to, but Harry figured it came with high society, pureblood breeding, which he didn't have.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered what his life would have been like had Voldemort never existed and his parents were still alive. His parents had been wealthy, enough to exceed, or at least match, the Malfoy fortune. Would his life have been made up of proper etiquette and ballroom dancing lessons? Would he and Draco have been friends growing up? Would Harry have allowed himself to be sorted into Slytherin after all?

When Harry's attention drifted back to the blond, he noticed Draco was staring at his tail. "It's weird, isn't it?" Harry asked, flapping it in and out of the tide coming around his lower body.

"It's different to see on you," Draco agreed, "but it's not a bad thing. It's actually quite lovely."

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks and he noted carefully that he hadn't had the same reaction when Hermione had told him the same thing. "Lovely?" Harry scoffed, trying to cover his moment of pause. "I'm half fish. I don't think that qualifies as lovely."

"You're a Merman," Draco corrected. "It's different."

"I'll take your word for it," Harry muttered, glancing at his tail and how it looked darker, almost black, in the moonlight. Only the faint rainbow of colors reflected off of it now like an oil slick. They sat in silence for a while before falling into more pleasant conversation as Harry carefully steered away from the fact that _he_ was different.

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Delores Umbridge was a foul creature, perhaps even more so than Voldemort himself, because at least the Dark Lord was clear on his stances and didn't portray an exterior of sacrine sweetness while having a mind filled with bile.

The Centaurs realized this fact at once, and acted accordingly. No one ever saw Delores Umbridge again because the Centaurs took care of her the day Hermione led her blubbering form into the Forbidden Forest.

Unfortunately, they hadn't done as thorough a job as they thought.

Deep in the black depths of the ocean she still survived, a mere shell of the woman she'd been because of the curse the Centaurs used against her. It was meant to make her wither in her own guilt, however, what the wise beasts of the wood hadn't counted on was that Umbridge didn't feel nearly as guilty over her deeds as she should –as a normal person would.

She did, of course, feel forlorn that her plans to dominate Hogwarts and do her Minister proud had been spoiled, but she regretted none of the actions she'd taken against the spoiled brats who were rallying behind Dumbledore. Because of this, the curse transformed her body, turning her into a tentacled creature or the sea that no creature would voluntarily look upon, but it did not destroy her as it was meant to.

Deep in her oceanic hidey-hole, Umbridge plotted her revenge against the one she saw as the cause for all her strife, the one whose lies had the Minister assign her to Hogwarts, the one who had consistently balked authority and rules. The one who brought her into the mess she was in now –_Harry Potter_.

It hadn't taken much to charm the minds of dull children like Crabbe and Goyle into poisoning Potter's pumpkin juice at the feast, and now, all she had to do was wait. If left uncured of his seemingly harmless affliction when school began again, Harry Potter would die and she would finally have her revenge.

Author's Note: So, there you have it, Part 1. Part 2 to follow soon.


	7. The Little Mermaid: Part 2

Author's Note: Many thanks to Shannon and Laurel for their beta reading of this story. It's so much fun weaving these tales.

The Little Mermaid - Part 2

Draco was wading in a shallow tide pool where he thought he'd be able to find the shell they'd been looking for. It would be the last ingredient he and Harry needed to find before they took his father's boat out to look for the final ingredient needed for the antidote. That ingredient was going to be tricky. They had captured a dolphin's song the morning before, which was easier than it sounded, but still rather difficult. In order to do so, they had to get close enough to cast the Sonorous charm on the creature and then Harry had to capture the sound in a charmed jar that they would be able to use it in the potion Draco had begun brewing. After this, only the Roogna flower remained.

The potion Draco had devised was a complicated one, and he hoped Harry understood what it meant that he was doing this for him. He'd always had a crush on the Gryffindor, _always_. It was probably what led him into being so possessive of the boy and even cruel after he'd been rejected repeatedly by the reluctant hero, and for a Weasley no less. These past few weeks that Harry had been with him in the guise of gathering ingredients together –he probably could have ordered most of them from the Apothecary in Diagon Alley and had them delivered within the week, but that would have given him no alone time with Potter- these had been the best few weeks of his life.

Harry was fun and kind and blushed delicately whenever Draco would pay him a compliment. He was easy to talk to and now that the Malfoy family was changing alliances, there was almost nothing standing in their way…except that tail. Harry wasn't like other Mermen, whose tails would dissolve away the moment they were on dry land. Still, Harry's tail was stunning. It looked like thousands of precious gems strung together.

He wouldn't have traded these weeks of quiet companionship for anything though. The more he got to know the Gryffindor, the more he adored him, and he suspected that Harry liked him as well. He looked over through the crystal clear waters to see Harry skimming the floor of the pool for the shell Draco had shown him in a book earlier that day and he sighed. He wished he knew for sure how the boy felt about him. Was it just a new friendship or did Harry think of him the same way? He desperately wanted to kiss the boy but he had no idea how a forward gesture like that would be received – so he refrained…for now.

"Anything?" Harry asked him, those red lips swollen and soft from too much salt.

"Not yet, you?" he replied, a soft smile on his face. He could stay like this forever with Harry and be content, but the greedy Slytherin in him wanted it all. He wanted to kiss him, hold him, make love to him, and hold his hand at school. He didn't care who knew or who gawked at them, he just wanted to possess the boy as thoroughly as Harry could be possessed.

"This is useless," Harry sighed. "How are we supposed to find this shell? It's like a needle in a haystack!" he complained.

"I'm starting to think you just don't like spending time with me anymore," Draco pouted as he slinked over to where Harry floated in the pool of crystal clear water, his tone light and joking while his eyes remained slightly injured.

"No!" Harry gasped, his reaction warming Draco's heart. "It's not that. I'm just eager to have legs again."

"What are you going to do first when you get your legs back?" Draco asked, pushing a lock of Harry's wild mane behind his ear.

"I'm going to run!" Harry exclaimed, looking wistful. "And then I'm going to mast-er-nevermind," he stammered, his face turning bright crimson.

Draco chuckled in understanding. It took a lot of self-restraint for him not to ask Harry what it was like to be suddenly void of his manhood. The tail was lovely, as he constantly reminded the boy, but he was certain that Harry's prick would be lovely as well. "I couldn't even imagine not being able to wank when I got horny," Draco mused aloud, causing the blush on Harry's cheeks to flame up again.

"It's…trying, to say the least," Harry muttered.

"Oh yeah?" Draco asked conversationally, trying to keep it casual so that Harry wouldn't get embarrassed again. "So, when you get your legs back, are you and Alana going to 'come ashore'," he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at his innuendo. Draco was confident Harry would do no such thing with Alana, but he thought that if he could just get Harry to admit he was gay, perhaps then he might not reject his advances outright. Draco had been trying to do that very thing for the month that they'd been out here.

"Alana? Merlin, no!" Harry scoffed, and if Mermen could choke on water, that's what he did. "Anyway, she thinks I'm gay," he muttered as an afterthought.

"Are you?" Draco asked softly.

"No!" Harry replied all too quickly, and then looked down into the suddenly intriguing waves. "I don't think so, I mean…. I'm not sure, really."

"What would help you decide?" Draco asked, inching closer to Harry with every word.

"I don't kn-"

Harry of course was going to give his standard 'I don't know' answer, but Draco wasn't in the mood to hear it again. What he was in the mood for was to have Harry's tongue in his mouth, so that's what he went for. He'd been restraining himself for weeks now and he hadn't the energy to do it any longer. The boy gasped as their lips crashed together; he didn't respond at first, but after a second's pause Harry began fervently kissing Draco back.

Harry tasted like salt and the fresh fruit Draco had been bringing him each day. Draco's hands roamed Harry's flesh, his fingertips drifting down and over the scales covering the boy's arse. They weren't sharp like the hide of a shark, and they weren't slimy like he expected most things that spent too much time underwater must be, they were slick and smooth and just like the skin of a serpent, to which Draco could easily relate.

A soft whimpering moan met Draco's ears and encouraged him on. He nibbled lightly on Harry's bottom lip and wished he could feel Harry responding with more than just his tongue dancing in his mouth. Draco's hands grabbed roughly at Harry's hips while Harry's own hands seemed to awkwardly roam Draco's back, as if he didn't know what to do with them.

Apparently he was struck with inspiration, however, because he pulled away from Draco's lips just slightly to smirk against them. His fingers rested on the edge of the elastic band on Draco's shorts and they toyed with the hem there as he spoke. "I guess it's decided then," he whispered.

"Oh?" Draco replied, his voice breathy and filled with need. "What convinced you?"

"That was the best kiss I've ever had," Harry told him, his eyes sparkling with a radiance that hadn't been there before.

"I've always liked you, Harry," Draco admitted, blurting it out before he lost the gumption.

Several emotions flitted through Harry's eyes then. For a moment it looked as though he thought Draco was teasing him, but he must have appeared sincere enough to convince the Gryffindor that he was being honest. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"It seemed pointless. It wasn't as if I could do anything about it, we were on opposite sides of a war," he replied honestly.

"Ever the practical Slytherin," Harry muttered, though he didn't sound angry. "Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same way?"

"No," Draco answered at once. "Did you?"

"No," Harry replied with a cheeky grin. "But I do now."

"I suppose that's all that matters, right?" Draco asked and then he gasped when Harry's hand slipped into his shorts and grabbed his erection. "Harry," he breathed, his eyes fluttered closed. He'd imagined what it might feel like for Harry to touch him for ages now, but no fantasy was as delicious as the real thing.

"It seems neglectful not to make up for lost time," Harry whispered against the shell of Draco's ear. He didn't know where this emboldened Harry came from but he was glad for it.

"But you," he murmured distractedly as Harry stroked him. "I can't reciprocate," he complained and he could feel his lips forming a pout at the words. "I want to touch you, too."

"Then I suppose it will be all the better incentive for you to cure me," Harry groaned breathlessly. The feel of Draco's cock in his hand was seriously turning him on. In fact, he'd never been so aroused in his life.

Draco would have responded, but it would have fallen on deaf ears because in that moment, Harry dove under the ocean's surface. Draco had a split second to wonder if Harry had changed his mind before he felt a tug on his trousers as he lost them and then lips around his cock.

"Oh, fuck," Draco exclaimed, his voice becoming thick and full of lust. Harry snaked his hands up Draco's thighs and over his hips, gripping him tightly to steady himself as he bobbed up and down Draco's length. There was nothing Draco could compare to the feeling of getting an underwater blowjob from the boy he'd lusted after for years. Harry's beautiful tail made splashing ripples on the waters surface as his clever tongue did amazing things to Draco's throbbing prick. It was all Draco could do not to shout out, but even still, his mouth made involuntary murmurs of Harry's name like a chant on the breeze. The word 'Harry' was strung together a thousand times or more as if it were one long name. He could feel the heat grow, pooling in his groin and trying to explode through him.

The first wave of his orgasm hit as if he were slamming head first into a brick wall and his entire body shuddered. He bit into his bottom lip to keep from screaming out at the unexpected force of it and his hands were balled into fists at his side, no doubt drawing blood in his palm from the pressure of his perfectly manicured nails.

When Harry's wet black hair emerged from the water, Draco launched at him, crashing into the boy's lips and claiming him once more. They tumbled in the shallow water until Draco had Harry pinned beneath him on the bank, only their feet –or tail in Harry's case- still underwater. "I'm going to cure you," Draco promised.

Harry smiled up at him, his lips still swollen and abused from their previous activity. "I know," he whispered.

"And when I do, you'll be all mine," Draco added, no less serious than before.

"I look forward to it," Harry replied. "Oh," he continued as an afterthought. "I found the shell while I was down there." Harry held it aloft and Draco chuckled, shaking his head at Harry's persistence and distraction as he claimed his paramour's lips once again.

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Two plump boys waited on the shore of a vacant beach in, more or less, the place where Umbridge had instructed them to meet her. She made her way towards them slowly; her rotund body made the trip far longer and more arduous than it should have been.

"What news?" she asked, forgoing any niceties. She hated children, these two included, but Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were more pliable than the rest, so she tolerated them. Their putty-like brains certainly came in handy.

"Draco Malfoy is helping Potter," the taller one said. She never knew which was which, and didn't much care to know either. They both looked like equally fat lumps of meat to her.

"Helping how?" she hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought of Potter receiving assistance for the carefully constructed situation she had placed him in.

"Draco's setting sail tomorrow to seek out the last ingredient for a potion they've been working on," the other boy replied. "Draco's sure it'll cure Potter."

"Why would the heir of the Malfoy family interfere? Surely he wants Harry Potter out of the picture nearly as much as I do," she grumbled; she remembered the Malfoy boy from her time at Hogwarts and always found him to be very eager to assist her in her plight against Potter. But she supposed that was the negative side to having such bumbling idiots as spies, they often got mixed up. Still, they rarely complained when she Transfigured them into eels so that they could easily spy on her victim.

"They were kissing," the tall one informed her, looking as disgusted as she felt.

"Lucius would disown the boy if he knew his only son had designs on Voldemort's Bane," Umbridge snarled. "Perhaps I should pay the younger Malfoy a visit and remind him where his loyalties should lie?"

She wasn't asking the two idiots in front of her so much as thinking out loud and pondering which method would be best to use to scare the boy away from her target. She'd prefer not to start a war with the Malfoy family if it could be avoided, but she would kill the young blond before she would allow him to interfere and save Potter's life. Since she knew the ingredients to the potion she'd used to curse Harry and which could be used to save him, she knew exactly where they would be going tomorrow. It should be easy enough to head them off and destroy Harry Potter once and for all.

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Draco's family boat wasn't a boat at all; rather, it was a massive yacht that Harry couldn't have missed if he'd tried. Pearly white and magnificent, the _S.S. Malfoy_ was a sight to behold. Draco rowed over to it in a small dinghy, and Harry swam smoothly along beside him, playfully splashing the boy with his tail as they made their way to the giant white ship. "Would you stop that already?" Draco huffed, wiping the saltwater from his face for the tenth time. "Your good looks and charm will only be able to buy you so much."

Harry chuckled and returned Draco's teasing by leaping up on the edge of the little dinghy and pressing a wet kiss into his boyfriend's cheek. "Love you, too," he quipped upon landing back in the water and Draco only smiled warmly as he kept his eyes on the horizon. There was only one reef that the Roogna flower grew and it would be easy to find once they got there because it was so distinctive looking.

"So, tell me again what we're looking for?" Harry asked, trying to make conversation as they trekked to the boat.

"It's the flower of wishes," Draco replied wistfully. His father had told him stories about it for years and it was a thrill to Draco's system that he was in pursuit of it now. "It's a brilliant red with feathery pieces of pink and purple that make up its petals. The flower, once added to the potion, will grant you a secret wish."

"And I'll wish for legs again," Harry muttered. "I still don't understand how this potion will reverse what the previous one did. If we're wrong about what poisoned me in the first place, won't this just make it worse?"

"I'm positive I know the culprit given to you at the feast. If it was so easily masked in Pumpkin Juice and did this to you, there are very limited options, really. The potion you drank granted your deepest desire, which in theory might seem like a good thing, but it does so at a price. It's almost like summoning a Genie; the potion took your desire and twisted it to fit the maker's wishes. What do you desire now, Harry?" Draco asked, his eyes full of lust and his voice a deep purr in the breeze.

Harry's face flushed and he looked away. "I didn't desire to be a Merman," he challenged, choosing not to answer Draco's loaded question.

"What were you thinking about when you drank the potion?" Draco inquired.

Thinking back to that evening, a wave of understanding suddenly washed over Harry. "I wanted to be free from everything," Harry admitted, as if a light went off above his head and clarity flooded through him.

"There aren't many creatures freer than the Merpeople, and none freer in the ocean for sure. No doubt the potion tried to bend your wish to its watery will," Draco laughed. "Still," he added, sobering at his own thoughts, "there had to be a reason your attacker chose this manifestation, why they wanted you relegated to the water."

"I have to assume that it was Voldemort's doing," Harry mused. "No one else wishes me harm as much as he does."

"Perhaps he wanted to separate you from those who could help? Maybe he's planning an attack on the school?" Draco suggested, mildly disturbed by the thought. For all his posturing about what a terrible school Hogwarts was, he loved it dearly – it was like a part of him.

"So, we need to fix this," Harry replied anxiously. "Fast, just in case that's exactly what he had in mind. How will the antidote work?"

"It's not really an antidote so much as the exact same potion with a slight twist," Draco replied.

"What will keep this very thing from happening again?" Harry asked. "What if this time I turn into a starfish or an octopus?"

"I suppose you'd better be pretty specific with your wish," Draco mused, smirking gently. He was sure the potion would work because he'd designed it to attune to his boyfriend, not to be a sneaky devise to injure Harry in some way. "Maybe instead of legs you should wish for human legs, or maybe you should just wish to be mine forever and we'll see what happens."

Harry laughed and nodded. "Sure. It would probably turn me into a rock that you could keep in your pocket."

"No." Draco pursed his lips and shook his head. "That simply wouldn't do. I can't go around having sex with a rock. That just wouldn't be proper."

It took Harry a moment to realize that Draco was kidding because his face never faltered from its contemplative gaze. "But it would be proper to have sex with _me_?" Harry asked at last, one dark eyebrow raised in question. He meant it in a teasing way as he had most everything he said to the boy as they found an odd comfort zone with one another, but he still wanted his question answered, teasing or no.

Draco leaned over, hovering so that his tiny boat might tip him at any moment, and he looked into Harry's glittering emerald eyes. "Well," he began, his tone distinctly throaty, "I'm hoping to find that out very soon."

A bright flush crept up Harry's cheeks and Draco winked at him. "I love it when you blush," he observed. "It's so lovely."

Embarrassed, Harry dove underwater to avoid the sultry compliments he wasn't sure how to respond to, well aware that he had splashed the blond once again with his swift movement.

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Technically Draco didn't need to be out in the ocean with Harry. He could have easily given Harry the coordinates, shown the boy a picture of the plant and sent him on his way. However, the fresher the Roogna flower was, the better it would work in the potion, and Draco didn't want to risk it wilting in the day or so it would take for Harry to bring it back to him. So, Draco set up the rest of the ingredients and the nearly completed potion on the deck of the yacht, and basked in the glow of the sun on his skin as they made their way to collect the flower together.

Even if none of that had been true, Draco had grown used to spending time with Harry every day, and he would have missed the raven beauty if he had sent Harry out alone.

It took them a little over seven hours to reach the coordinates that were reported to hold the reef and Draco was happy for Harry's company, even if it was distant. Just knowing he was close by was enough. Harry followed in the ship's wake, occasionally popping out of the water to spar with Draco.

Things between them were moving swiftly and Draco had to admit that he adored Harry even more as he grew to know the boy. They fell into an easy relationship out here in the ocean, away from all the evil of the wizarding world. Out there, apart from Gryffindors and Slytherins, they were just Harry and Draco and he worried slightly what it would be like when they went back to Hogwarts.

Would it be too hard to stay together? Would Harry kowtow to his friends and leave Draco behind? What if Harry was no longer interested in him once he was cured? He couldn't see the future and that terrified him. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy didn't have a plan, and that prospect was frightening.

He commanded the house-elves to anchor the boat and Draco slipped out of his shirt and dove over the edge into the water where he knew Harry was waiting for him. Harry immediately swam over and enveloped Draco in a warm, yet slippery embrace as he tried to help Draco get his bearings. "So, I take it we're here? Or did you just want to come swim with me?"

"We're here," Draco confirmed. "Do you want to dive under and have a look around, see if you can find the flower?"

Harry nodded and set off. Under the water's surface the reef was teeming with fish and coral and all sorts of unusual critters that made their home there. As he skimmed the top of the reef, Harry caught a glimpse of a cluster of small flowers that matched Draco's description of the Roogna flower. He swam toward them with abandon, overcome with excitement at being human once again and paying too little attention to his surroundings. Just as his hand clasped a bright colorful bloom, a net snapped up around him.

In a confused panic, Harry struggled to free himself, but his frantic movements only managed to get him more tangled in the web-like mess. He wondered for a moment what was going on, how he had ended up caught in a net, and then he realized with a cold dread that he had been captured. His thoughts were immediately pulled upwards toward Draco, feeling the need to warn him of potential danger the most prominent concern on his mind.

He struggled even harder at the thought of Draco being attacked above the surface while he was trapped below, but he couldn't get away. He couldn't think of who would be doing this to him, who would even know he was out here, but that question was easy enough to answer. No one knew, no one except for Draco.

His throat constricted painfully as the implications rolled over him. His body felt limp as he felt the crushing heartbreak of Draco's betrayal; it had been a trick all along. Draco didn't care for him, and Harry felt ignorant for having ever believed he did. Of course it had been false, Draco was probably doing the bidding of Voldemort himself. It wouldn't be prudent to kill Harry there on the shore of the Malfoy's summer home. No, it would be far better to lure him out and kill him in the middle of the ocean, far from help, far from home.

He swallowed down the bile that rose up his throat at the thought. How could he fall so easily and so completely for a known Slytherin liar? He must have been desperate to be with someone familiar if he fell for such a trick.

It wasn't long before he was made to rethink his initial panic and wonder if Draco didn't have an accomplice in all this because a moment later a putrid being skulked closer and Harry had the feeling he might be sick all over again. There in front of him was a very deformed Delores Umbridge. He was certain it was her by the manic gleam in her eyes, the toad-like structure to her mutated head, and the fact that the tentacles that grew out of her globular body were tinged the faintest of pink. Even as an evil sea creature the woman was ghastly and he never thought he'd say this, but Harry far preferred her human form.

"Umbridge," Harry growled at her. "I suppose you and Malfoy think you've won some great victory by capturing me?"

"Oh dear," she giggled, and shook what Harry supposed was her head. "My true victory will come when I see the last breath escape your body, Mr. Potter, but yes, this is also fun."

Harry thrashed in protest as she pulled the edges of the net to her and up toward the waiting boat. Harry had grabbed hold of the flower he had been seeking, but let it go when he realized that it had been a wild goose chase set up by a boy he thought had feelings for him. He supposed Draco did have feelings after all, but they were all as evil as Harry had once suspected.

The trip onto the boat was slow and awkward but eventually Harry found himself on the deck, staring at Draco's potion equipment and wondering how he had been so naïve. He could have sworn the blond's feelings were genuine; he could feel them like a palpable rush through his veins when they touched. Yet there he was, lying on the sun-bleached deck of Malfoy's ship drying out. He was going to die there, he knew it, and he had no protection.

"My, my," Umbridge cooed, her rubbery flesh reflecting the waning sunlight. "Look at the dying lovebirds."

Harry didn't understand her comment until he looked over to see Draco in a similar net -only he was unconscious. "Why did you capture Malfoy?"

The woman made an odd clicking noise with her beak-like mouth, which made Harry cringe. "I would have thought after confessing your love to one another that you'd be on a first name basis." A deep frown set into his brow and he stared back. "Priceless!" she cawed, and laughed, the sound a hideous cackle in the air. "You thought he tricked you. Oh, Potter, you're such a foolish boy."

Harry felt awash with so many emotions he could hardly identify them all. He was ashamed at suspecting Draco's betrayal, angry that Umbridge had hurt his beautiful boyfriend, and determined to free them both, though, he had no idea how. He was growing weaker by the moment, what sun was left was quickly drying his tail into a stiff lump of scales and it was quite painful.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Draco stirred beside him and looked over, his eyes filled with confusion and then panic. "Harry, what's going on?" Harry didn't reply, he just let his eyes flick over to the massive creature keeping them bound and Draco's followed. He took in the blubbery weight of his old Defense professor, the patches of missing blonde hair; the extreme morphing her body had taken with whatever curse had been leveled on her had not done her _any_ favors. Finally, his stormy eyes fell on a vial the woman carried around her neck, bright fuchsia and cloudy, Draco knew at once it was the antidote they'd been brewing all along.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted him," Draco asked her, his haughty Malfoy tone returning in full force. "I would have brought him to you willingly. Now you've gone and sullied my clothes," he whined, pulling at the robe around him that left filthy lines all over him. "Really, Delores, there are easier ways."

"Don't toy with me, Boy," she hissed. "I've heard the tales of your infatuation with this freak. How you fell so far from the Malfoy tree I'll never understand. He's not even a pureblood," she added critically.

"He's purer than you'll ever be!" Draco shouted, letting the act go since it obviously wasn't working.

"Filthy," she growled. "Both of you are filthy little brats. I'm not sure what would be more fun, killing you and letting Potter watch or the other way around."

"If you touch a single fucking hair on his head I'll kill you," Harry seethed.

"I suppose that settles it then," she mused with a throaty laugh. In the next moment her wand was leveled at Draco's temple and Harry's eyes went wide. With all the strength he had left, Harry leapt into Draco's net and shoved him enough out of the way for the spell to miss, catching Harry in the chest instead.

"No!" Draco screamed as Harry's body convulsed under the weight of the Cruciatus Curse. A strangled cry broke through his lips as the spell held him and twisted him and filled his mind with pain.

A toxic giggle escaped Umbridge as she continued to hold her wand aloft, aiming it at Harry's heart until his eyes closed and his breathing stopped.

"You. Fucking. Bitch!" Draco screamed murderously and power flooded his body as he turned all his fiery rage onto Umbridge. He heard her scream long before he realized that his hands seemed to glow an otherworldly blue and the light seeping from them was tearing the watery witch to shreds.

The net was released from around him as her magic drained away. Draco stepped forward as if in a trance and the moment he placed his hands on what was left of her rubbery form, her screaming stopped and the light fled from her eyes. Like a torch flaring to life, Draco snapped out of his fury fueled daze and rushed to Harry's side, trying to shake him awake. He could hear the boy breathing, but it was shallow and faint and Draco started to panic.

"Harry, wake up," he demanded. "You can't leave me now, you just can't!"

A loud pop competed with Draco's shouts and the blond looked up to see the Headmaster staring down at him with glittering blue eyes. "Move away, please, Mr. Malfoy," he ordered and Draco reluctantly let go of Harry's limp body and shifted to the side but he refused to drop the boy's hand.

Another pop signaled Snape's arrival on the Malfoy yacht and he looked slightly ill. "I don't like Apparating onto a moving vessel, Albus," he hissed to the older wizard, ignoring Draco outright.

"Enough complaining, Severus. Grab Harry, we need to get him back to Hogwarts so that Poppy can have a look at him," he commanded. Snape shot him a withering sneer before leaning down and pulling Harry into his arms, giving Draco little choice but to finally let go of his boyfriend's hand.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" Severus asked at last, apparently just spotting him for the first time.

"You'll need this," Draco told him, ignoring his potion professor's question as he ripped the potion's vial from Umbridge's fat neck and placed it in Snape's palm.

He held it up awkwardly as he was trying to hold Harry aloft at the same time. "Cupioserum," he mused, "why didn't I think of that? Excellent work, Draco, I'll see you in class in a few weeks."

With that they were gone, stealing Harry and the antidote away with them as they Apparated off the yacht, leaving Draco to stare off into the distance after them. He had no idea if Harry would be alright, or whether or not the fuchsia liquid would truly cure him, or what the boy would think about him once he had legs again. What if everything went right back to the way it was before? What if Harry refused to help his family since Draco didn't have the chance to live up to his end of the bargain?

A million other questions and emotions crossed his mind as he sat there in the middle of the ocean alone. He wanted to be with Harry, but he wasn't sure how to make that happen. He couldn't Apparate all the way to Hogwarts; he'd barely even trained on how to get from his living room to his bedroom. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he would probably have to wait for the new term to begin before he got to see Harry again.

It was with a heavy heart that Draco began to make the long journey back to his family's summer home alone. All the way back he chanted over and over to the Gods, or the Fates or Merlin – whoever was listening – to _please let Harry be alright_.

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The train ride to Hogwarts was tense for Draco Malfoy. He'd gotten not a word of news about Harry's condition for the remaining weeks of summer no matter how many times he wrote to his godfather, Severus, pleading for an update. Draco assumed he was under orders from Dumbledore not to give any word; no doubt the Dark Lord had caught wind of Harry's predicament and would be most pleased to learn of his death.

The idea caught in Draco's throat like a horrid lump. Perhaps that was exactly why he'd gotten no news so far. Maybe Harry hadn't recovered from the torture inflicted upon him by Umbridge, or maybe the antidote didn't work or had made him worse off than he already was. It would also explain why Harry himself hadn't written either. He wanted to scream in frustration but he refused to break down on the Hogwarts Express. He was sure being made to sit and wonder was worse than knowing what had happened after his two professors had stolen away with his love.

After scouring the train for the hundredth time, looking for any sign of Harry onboard, Draco eventually gave up and succumbed to the fact that he might not ever see Harry again, might not ever find out if there was more to that kiss, more to their relationship now that everything was different between them.

When the train pulled into Hogsmeade, Draco trudged over to the waiting carriages. He was feeling despondent, but a small part of him held out to hope that Harry might be waiting for him inside the castle. That hope was squashed as soon as he found the Gryffindor table empty of his black mop of hair and piercing green eyes. He couldn't even pretend to listen to the sorting or the welcoming speech and he hardly touched his dinner as he did everything within his power to keep tears from sliding down his cheeks.

Near the end of the meal, Draco had an inspired idea. He had no idea if it would work, but if Dumbledore and Snape weren't talking to him, he knew two people who might. The moment the feast ended, Draco raced to the entrance hall where he waited for Harry's friends to emerge. He tried desperately to ignore the fact that the pair of steadfast Gryffindors looked equally sullen and pressed on.

"Granger, Weasley, could I have a word?" he asked, trying for the most friendly tone he could muster given how close he was to losing his mind with fear and desperation.

The pair looked sideways at one another and Draco surmised they were both equally perplexed at being called aside by a Slytherin, and Draco Malfoy at that. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron asked, his frown portraying just how skeptical he was.

"I just want to know if Harry's alright," Draco blurted, unable to hold back his tirade of emotions any longer, the blond closed his eyes to ward off a bout of tears.

The Gryffindors glanced at one another, seeming to have a silent conversation there in the hall. "He told us you might ask," Hermione said softly.

"We didn't believe him," Ron huffed, clearly wishing he'd been right and whatever story Harry gave him wasn't true.

"So, you helped him then?" she asked, chewing on her bottom lips as she studied her former rival.

"You've spoken to him?" Draco asked, clearly relieved by the simple question. If the pair knew anything about what happened to he and Harry over the summer, they must have heard from him at least once since he returned. Draco could have laughed with joy at the knowledge that Harry might be okay after all; he must have recovered from the torture at least, and perhaps he was no longer a merman either.

But Hermione sighed and leaned against her redheaded friend, and Draco's heart nervously skipped a beat. Something was wrong and he needed to know what it was. "We're not supposed to say anything to anyone, but-" she remarked, tears welling up in her eyes. That sight scared Draco more than it had to see Umbridge changed and aboard his boat. Something was wrong. Something was desperately wrong.

"He's been sent out to kill Voldemort." It was Weasley who spoke when Hermione no longer could, and his own voice shook as he held his friend close and wiped at her tears. "Dumbledore thought it would be best to use this moment, while we had the element of surprise on our side. You-Know-Who was informed through our spies of Harry's condition, so he wasn't expecting an attack. All the Order is backing him up, of course, but we haven't heard word from any of them and it's been nearly a week."

"They'll probably all be dead," Hermione added with a choked sob.

No. No. No. This couldn't be happening, not now, not when he'd finally had the boy he wanted within his tenuous grasp. It couldn't be. Harry couldn't be yanked from his arms just as quickly as he was placed there. Draco wobbled where he stood; his legs trembled beneath him and threatened to collapse from under his weight. His hands went into his hair, tugging at it fiercely in his anguish and pain. He turned, slowly striding away from the others without a word. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing but he couldn't face his housemates right now; he needed to be alone.

"Malfoy," Ron called after him, "you can't tell anyone."

That was a given. Who would he tell? He'd already alienated most of his house when his family switched sides in the war, no one would listen to him or believe him even if he wanted to tell someone. He didn't reply, he just kept walking, up and up and up until the castle grounds stretched out before him in all their magical glory. He leaned heavily against the wrought iron bars, relishing the rush of being so high up; it was nice to feel something other than worry, fear and the aching pain in his heart. He wondered for a brief moment what it would feel like to just cast his body down into the dark glassy surface of the Black Lake, letting his body break against the sea foam, but shook his head as if in answer to his own question of mortality.

Death wasn't the answer. He wasn't capable of taking a human life and in the end that included his own.

"You're not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?" asked a voice from behind him. Draco whirled and came face to face with a pair of emerald green eyes that he didn't think he'd ever see again. "Was it so terrible kissing me that you want to throw yourself from the Astronomy Tower?" Harry asked, and all Draco could do was shake his head, freeing some of the tear-drenched hair from his sticky cheeks.

"You're late," he replied, trying to quell the chest heaving sobs he'd been wracked with only a moment before.

Harry looked guilty, and Draco noticed the cuts and bruises on his face for the first time. His hand lifted to touch them gently, and much to his disbelief, they started to heal. An awestruck smile colored Harry's features and he held out his hand for Draco to take, which the blond did without hesitation.

"I seem to recall you saving my life," Harry whispered, his face only inches away from Draco's.

"I had to," Draco replied easily. "No one can hurt what belongs to a Malfoy and get away with it." He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth but Harry's smile remained soft and he moved closer, his bruised lips nearly brushing against Draco's.

"So, I'm yours then?" he asked, his grip on Draco's hand clenching slightly.

"I hope so," Draco replied, less confidently this time.

His answer came in the form of a blistering kiss, Harry's free hand carding through his blond locks as Draco pulled him closer and ravished that mouth he'd missed so dearly. "I thought I'd never see you again," Draco admitted when they broke apart.

"For a moment I thought the same," Harry replied, pulling the boy back over to the side of the tower as they watched the Black Lake churn below. There was a storm coming, the clouds were nearly black with it, but Draco couldn't bring himself to care if it rained every single day so long as Harry was beside him. "He's dead," Harry added, almost as an afterthought. "Your family is safe."

"I'm glad you're okay," Draco whispered.

"And that I don't have a tail?" Harry inquired, but Draco only laughed.

"I liked the tail," he protested. "But I think you have something back now that I'll like even more," he added with waggling eyebrows.

Harry chuckled and pulled Draco into another kiss, nearly gasping as the blond's fingers found their way below his shirt. Their kiss wasn't broken until Draco pulled the shirt from his body, smiling as Harry did the same with Draco's robes, tie and crisp white dress shirt. When the rest of their clothes were dispatched of, Harry admired the naked blond before him. Lean expanses of milky white flesh filled his vision and then his mouth as he devoured the boy, kissing and biting hot lines along his chest and stomach.

They collapsed to the ground, latching on to one another fervently with hands and mouths. Draco ran his hands down Harry's back, relishing the silky feel of him until he hit a patch of skin that wasn't quite right just above the man's arse. He flipped the boy over in a fluid movement, taking a moment to admire Harry's pert backside before smiling as he saw a smattering of glistening scales on Harry's lower back. It was like a rainbow had branded his tanned flesh.

"All but that spot went away," Harry muttered uncomfortably. "Is it hideous?"

"No!" Draco replied with a gasp. "It's beautiful," he added as he kissed the glittering flesh. "At least you don't have scaly balls, right?"

Harry chuckled and flipped over, grabbing Draco and pulling his face up to meet his. "Maybe I do," Harry goaded.

"Oh, trust me, Harry, I plan to give that area a thorough inspection," Draco replied and to punctuate his promise, Draco descended on Harry's erection as if it were an ice cream bar on a hot sunny day. Harry found himself clawing at the stone floor underneath him as Draco sucked, looking for purchase anywhere he could find it as if grabbing hold of something would alleviate the pressure building steadily through him.

His world began to fuzz out until it exploded around him like a wave crashing against the shore. Draco's name was on his lips as a murmured chant as the tide of his orgasm shuddered and waned, leaving him a jelly-like mass on the floor.

His boyfriend's smirking face loomed over him, capturing his lips in a hurried kiss before he felt a finger breach him, filling his groin with renewed heat. "Fuck," he hissed, biting down on his lip to keep from wincing from the pain that so closely bordered on pleasure. Draco pulled Harry's leg up and kissed the tender flesh at the inside of Harry's knee as he added another finger. Harry was keening, begging for Draco to take him, but the blond didn't want to enter him without proper preparation.

After he felt his lover had been stretched enough, Draco cast a quick lubrication charm and angled himself to press against Harry's entrance. The impatient Gryffindor arched up, trying to pull Draco inside of him, but with a steel will, Draco resisted him and chuckled at his eagerness. "I love you, Harry," he whispered, distracting the boy from the pain of being filled for the first time.

He made a few strangled noises in reply, some of which sounded like he might be reciprocating the blond's sentiment. When Draco was fully sheathed inside his beautiful Gryffindor, he paused to see how Harry was doing. His face and chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his lovely mouth was parted in a delicious sigh. Then Draco began to move and a mingling of the boys' throaty moans filled the air around them. Harry wrapped his legs around the blond's waist, pulling him deeper with each thrust until light exploded behind Draco's eyes and he watched as Harry pulled himself off while the blond emptied his release inside of his virgin arse. Only a few moments were spared for murmured proclamations of love and sated contentment before the boys drifted off into sleep right there in the exposed loft of the Astronomy Tower.

Their bodies were covered in rain, sweat and the sticky remnants of Harry's second orgasm when they two woke up. Harry didn't know what made him stir awake until he heard a deep throat clear sharply from behind him. Quickly, Harry pulled Draco's robe up to cover them both as Draco woke up beside them.

"Now that you've had your little…reunion…we think it is time to announce your success to your classmates, Potter," Snape sneered from above them.

Draco blushed cutely under the Potion Master's gaze and Harry couldn't wait to kiss him again, but assumed under the current circumstances, they might have to wait until Snape left. The man dried and levitated both boys' clothing to them with a look of disdain written clearly on his face and turned to leave as they both dressed quickly.

"You look like a couple of dirty vagabonds," Snape muttered when the two emerged and followed him down the long staircase to the main floor.

"I hope your time together was agreeable," Dumbledore asked as he met the three men at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'd say it was more than agreeable judging by the state I found them in," Snape grumbled.

Dumbledore chuckled and shooed the boys' along to the Great Hall. "Severus and I will be along shortly. I'm sure Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will be eager to see you safe and sound again, Harry."

The Gryffindor beamed as he thought of how different his life was going to be now. Hermione would no doubt smother him in a frizzy-haired hug, Ron would clap him amicably on the back while looking relieved and uncomfortable, and the rest of his housemates would undoubtedly give various degrees of congratulations, well wishes, handshakes and hugs. He'd experienced all these things before, but this time it would all feel new to him because now Draco was at his side and Voldemort was gone and he could finally begin his life.

His story was far from over, because Harry Potter had just traded one tale for another.

Author's Note: So, I was trying for a quiet balance between the original darker tale and the lighter Disney version of the story while adding in enough HP flavor to make it better than both of them. lol. Next up is Sleeping Beauty.


	8. Sleeping Beauty: Part 1

Author's Note: Many thanks to Deb, Mary and Shannon for looking over this story for me. I know you have all been waiting eagerly for an update to this series, and your patience will be rewarded with not just one new faerie tale, but two!

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It was only supposed to be a game.

Much like the Tri-Wizard Tournament, there were going to be challenges set up for each year. Only it wasn't at all like the Tri-Wizard Tournament, because these challenges were only going to be to test the students' practical knowledge in the lessons they had learned that year. They weren't going to be dangerous… supposedly.

So then why was Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, in a cursed sleep and hidden somewhere in the school? And furthermore, why was Harry Potter supposed to find him before he stayed that way forever?

True love of course…well, that and the Hogwarts House Cup!

---------------------------------------------------------------

Two Weeks Earlier…

"Stop being a prat," Harry groaned as he lazily ran his hands through his friend's soft platinum hair. If anyone had told him a year ago that he would become close friends with Draco Malfoy of all people, Harry would have cursed them into oblivion. And yet here he was, resting peacefully by the lake – well, sort of peacefully – with the blond he'd loathed for years. The war had changed everyone, Harry included, but Draco's transformation from Slytherin prat to close friend had been the most surprising of all.

"Call me names all you like, Potter, but you're the one who will be bowing down to me when I win that cup," Draco replied with a triumphant smirk.

It had just been announced that this year Hogwarts would hold a unique game, one that would hopefully relieve the stress and sorrow that the war had created and bring about some healthy competition between the four houses, all while rewarding students for their hard work and studies through the year. Each house would participate and select four students from each year to compete. It was up to the Head of that house to determine which students would be included once the nominations had been placed.

There would then be four pre-determined challenges for each year and the winner of each challenge would get a point. The house with the most points at the end of the Academic Tournament would win the House Cup. The behavioral point system was null for this year, not that it mattered much since there was less than a month left of classes and it had served its purpose of keeping students in line throughout the year already.

The challenges would be difficult, but by no means harmful or life threatening. They were simply meant to test each student's practical knowledge of a particular lesson, spell, creature or potion. Harry thought it was a much better way to prepare people for the real wizarding world outside the gates of Hogwarts. Hermione thought it was fine so long as it didn't interfere with her studies or the final exams and Ron thought it was bound to be a blast and couldn't wait to be selected for the seventh year team. The Golden Trio, after all, were practically shoe-ins for the tasks considering what they'd been through so far.

"I don't think I'm entering my name," Harry mused, staring up at the puffy white clouds drifting above them as Draco lounged with his head in Harry's lap. He was soaking up the spring sun and the scent of blossoming flowers and didn't notice his friend stir below him.

"What?" he asked, looking incredulous.

"I don't want to participate. I'd rather just watch the others," Harry explained.

"Potter, you _have to_ enter your name," Draco pouted. "It'll be no fun winning if you don't."

Harry rolled his eyes and offered Draco an indulgent smile. "You're not going to win whether I play or not," he quipped. "The Gryffindors are far superior in every way." He knew he was just goading the Slytherin along, but it was still fun to watch Draco's lips purse into a sour expression and his eyes narrow with disdain. Harry reveled in the fact that he was the only one who could ever pull even the slightest of emotions to the surface of the blond, but what that meant he'd yet to discover.

A scoffing laugh was the only rebuttal Harry received for several moments as Draco settled back into his place. Harry stared down and watched as the vivid expressions of just a moment before melted back into his usual mask of indifference. "I'll beat Weasley," he muttered at last and Harry couldn't conceal a soft smile.

"Probably," Harry placated, "but he might not be the Gryffindor you face off with." Draco excelled in potions of course, and Ron was rubbish, so most likely Draco would be pitted against Hermione, since the Head of House got to select which challenge their students would compete in. Harry knew that McGonagall was clever enough not to put Ron in the potions challenge, and that was surely where Slughorn would put Draco.

"I could beat Granger too," Draco added, as if gleaning Harry's thoughts from his eyes.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Harry snickered.

"You don't think I can?" Draco challenged. Their whole friendship had been made up of light-hearted bickering and long talks. When the school year started, Harry was exhausted from the war and from burying so many friends. He didn't have the energy to keep up his malicious tendencies toward the blond, especially not after Draco's parents were both found guilty of war mongering. They were both spared the Dementors Kiss and put on house arrest only after Harry's testimony and insistence. He had more pull with the Ministry after the events of the war than Harry would have liked to admit, but it did him some good once in awhile.

When he first saw Draco at the Welcoming Feast, he'd been surprised when the blond had strolled right over and thanked him for his actions in court. Right in front of Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindor table, Draco had thanked Harry, apologized for being a git and offered his hand in friendship.

Harry had recalled the first time that same hand had been stretched out to him for the same purpose. That time Harry had rejected it and possibly caused his life more strife in the process, but this time he took it and offered the Slytherin a seat at their table, which he politely accepted.

It was a slow process getting the other Gryffindors to accept Draco as not pure evil. Ron especially, but in the end the Malfoy charm had won out and these days he spent more time with Harry and his friends than with anyone from Slytherin. It was fun having the blond around, someone to share his more cunning Slytherin tendencies with, who wouldn't judge him harshly for it; someone who understood what it was like to have to live up to lofty expectations and the consequences of letting everyone down.

Harry could see he and Draco being friends for a long time to come. Friends like Finnegan or Thomas tended to drift in and out of his life, but Draco was just as steadfast as Ron and Hermione had been over the years and Harry could always use more friends.

The problem, because of course there is always a problem, was that Harry had begun getting more than just 'friendly' feelings when he was with Draco. Something within him stirred awake when Draco spoke, or when he was just in the room. He did everything he could think of to repress the feelings. Surely Draco wouldn't want any part of the dreams Harry had been having as of late, and he wanted to keep the blonds friendship more than anything.

So, every day, Harry struggled to keep his affection close to his chest where it belonged and instead tried to focus on other things that he might use to distract his heart.

"I think that both you and Mione are advanced in potions and it would be a brilliant competition to watch," Harry answered skillfully. If spending time with the Slytherin did anything for Harry it was to teach him how to be careful when he worded his thoughts. He would show favoritism toward neither of his friends, especially since he suspected that was what the Slytherin was goading him into.

Draco merely huffed, not able to pick apart any insult on either end from Harry's answer. "You seriously aren't entering?" he asked after a moment. "What if there's a flying challenge?"

"If you'd like me to race you to the Snitch, we can have a go right now," Harry offered. "I don't need a tournament to beat you."

A year ago such a statement would have been said with venom and received in kind, but now, Draco simply beamed at him and leapt up gracefully, pulling Harry to his feet at well. Harry barely had time to brush the dirt from his trousers before Draco was running. "Last one to the pitch has to do the other's Transfigurations essay!" Draco called over his shoulder as he bolted toward the Quidditch field.

"Cheating Slytherin!" Harry shouted after him as he ran to catch up and beat the blond there.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The names are being announced at dinner tonight," Draco chimed as he took his seat next to Harry at breakfast.

"How do you know?" Harry asked, his brow creasing with confusion.

"Snape's portrait told me," Draco replied with a shrug. They still hadn't found anyone to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, so Snape's portrait was instructing the class. Draco often lingered behind to talk to his old mentor, but Harry had no idea how the blond would have talked to him that morning already.

"When?" Ron piped in, obviously curious about the same thing.

"Last night," Draco replied before he could stop himself, his cheeks heating up slightly. Harry eyed him curiously, wondering what about that statement should make his friend blush. When he silently inquired his friend about it, Draco simply sent him an image of the painting hanging up in his bedroom. That was where he'd been keeping it and he thought Ron would tease him if he knew. Harry assured him that he wouldn't tell the redhead anything about it.

"Er… last night?" Ron asked, making a rather disgusted face. "That's sort of weird, Mate. I don't get how you could spend so much time with the greasy git, myself."

"He was Draco's godfather," Harry snapped in defense, and there was a slight simultaneous gasp from their little grouping. Harry didn't often call Draco by his given name, even after months of close friendship; it was just odd to call him anything other than 'Malfoy' after years of habit. But that wasn't why they were reacting so strongly, or at least not why Ron and Hermione were.

They were obviously taken aback by Harry's biting tone, but he couldn't help it. He knew how painful it was to lose a godfather in battle, how hard it was to lose a dear mentor and it was one of the many things he had in common with Draco. He couldn't bear to hear his friend's lingering loss disparaged by another friend who should rightly know better. If Harry had a portrait of Sirius to discuss his troubles with, he would probably talk to it more than was prudently acceptable as well.

Still, it was probably the first time Harry outwardly defended Draco against his friends and for a moment he felt guilty, as if he should always stand up for Ron over Draco because Ron was there first, but after Draco gave his hand a small reassuring squeeze under the table, Harry could not allow himself to back down.

Luckily he didn't have to. "Sorry," Ron muttered and grimaced slightly. "I keep forgetting that."

"It's fine," Draco replied gracefully and Harry sighed. A year ago that same exchange would have been a catastrophe. It was amazing what could happen in so little time.

The remainder of the meal was only awkward for a moment until Ron began gabbing about whom would be chosen for the tournament. "Harry, Hermione and I obviously from our year," he began, "who do you think the fourth will be?" he asked Harry.

"Um… I don't know, Ron," he replied and Draco gave him a knowing glance that the other two were too preoccupied to pick up on. Harry hadn't told anyone else that he wasn't putting his name in for the running. He figured it would be easier just to let the names be read off tonight and let everyone get over the fact that he wasn't selected. "Seamus, maybe?"

"Maybe," Ron agreed with a nod. "Dean's best in Defense, but no one could beat you, so I doubt they'll select him."

"Maybe there won't be a Defense challenge," Harry reasoned, hoping that there wasn't. He would feel quite guilty if there was and Gryffindor lost because he hadn't wanted to participate. He'd had his fill of fighting for a goal, at least for a little while. He was looking forward to these last few weeks of school where everything was so cut and dry and he didn't have to make any big, life-changing decisions. After school was out, the Ministry would waste no time in scooping him up and throwing him head first into the Auror program. He would take what peace and quiet he could get. "Neville's brilliant at Herbology. I bet he'll get chosen."

"Why haven't you told them?"

The question was Draco's, but no one else heard him ask because the words were silently slipped into Harry's mind like a secret note in class. Over the last few months, Draco had been teaching Harry everything he knew about Legilimency and Occlumency – which was quite a lot actually - and Harry found him a far better teacher than Snape had ever been. Recently, Harry had been doing so well that Draco taught him how to project, so that they could speak silently to one another. It was quite hard, but Harry was slowly mastering it.

"_He'll be disappointed,"_ Harry silently replied, trying to listen to Ron go on about how brilliant Neville was in Herbology, better than any of the Ravenclaws even. _"Anyway, he'll be fine once he gets selected. That's all he _really_ cares about anyhow."_

Draco closed his eyes briefly and gave Harry a curt nod. The Slytherin was the only one Harry had ever confided his love-loss between he and Ron with. He certainly could never bring these things up with Hermione who dated Ron off and on –they were on at the moment. He told Draco about all the times Ron abandoned him because of misunderstandings or because he wasn't as famous as Harry, or because things just got too difficult. Draco never said a word about what he thought of Ron, he only let Harry vent, but it gave the blond some insight to Harry's sometimes distant behavior toward his redheaded friend.

"_But you told me_," Draco noted silently and Harry nodded but didn't answer. In fact, that question had Harry reeling as he thought of why he only confided in one person these days. Just Draco. A faint tinge of pink crept up his neck as he thought of why that was, and he quickly closed off his thoughts as Draco had taught him to do.

The sudden mental wall between them made Draco frown, obviously confused by the other boy's swift and decisive action, but if Draco wanted to ask him about it, he'd have to speak aloud because Harry's mind was closed off to him for the moment and he didn't give the blond an opportunity to speak privately with him until later that evening.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Why did you shut me out?" Draco hissed as they approached the Great Hall for dinner. The corridors were buzzing with excitement as the news leaked –as it always did around Hogwarts- that the tournament players would be announced that night.

"I just…I just didn't want you prying in my head," Harry replied. He didn't know what else to say. 'I didn't want you to see how much I like you and would love to see you starkers' didn't quite sound right…or sane.

Draco stopped suddenly, letting the crowd rush around them and Harry had to slow down and turn back to meet up with him again, as Draco narrowed his eyes and actually scowled at him. It had been a long time since Harry had been on the receiving end of that look from Draco Malfoy.

"Is that what you think I do?" he asked, his tone biting cold. "Do you think I root around in your brain and pluck things out without your permission like a sneaky little thief?"

"No, I-" but Harry didn't know how to explain. "I was just thinking about something…something that I'm not quite ready to share."

Draco's face softened slightly and he started walking again, so Harry fell into stride with him. "Okay," he replied easily. "You _will_ tell me eventually though, won't you?" he asked, as if he was suddenly worried about losing his place in Harry's life because of one tiny secret.

"It's possible," Harry replied, trying to turn it into a joke. "I mean, I might find a new best friend to tell instead."

Draco didn't think it was funny though and grabbed Harry by the wrist and pulled him back through the crowd before shoving him roughly into a tiny alcove where they remained undetected. "Potter, I am _not_ amused."

"Malfoy, calm down," Harry hissed as he tried to wrench his arm from the blond's tight grip, but Draco shook his head.

"This is important to me," Draco replied hurriedly, as if the words would be lost forever if he didn't get them out quickly. "_You're_ important…" he began, swallowing thickly before he proceeded, "to me," he added softly, before hastily continuing his rant. "I know that sounds stupid and Hufflepuff, but it's true. I've never had a friend like you before and I don't want you ruining everything with your secret keeping."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Draco pressed against him as a student passed, trying to keep he and Harry out of sight and the movement caused Harry's blood to rush to his groin. "You can tell me anything," Draco continued, staring into Harry's brilliant green eyes with a look of determination and sincerity. "After all, we're friends now, and I would never betray a friend."

It took Harry a moment to form a coherent response, the urge to kiss those pouting lips was nearly too much to resist. "I know," he replied at last. "I'm just trying to process it all for myself first."

Draco's grip on his arms slackened and he nodded once before stepping back and away from the brunet. "I just want to make sure there are no secrets between us."

'_I love you and want to spend every moment with you for the rest of our lives,'_ Harry's mind silently blurted, but he simply shook his head. "Nothing important," he told the blond and they made their way toward the Great Hall once more as if the heated exchange had never occurred. However, they didn't quite make it before the pair was interrupted again, this time by the Headmistress.

"Mr. Potter, may I have a word?" McGonagall asked, her eyes flicking skeptically towards the young Malfoy at his side. She, like so many others at the school, didn't accept Draco's seemingly sudden change in demeanor and loyalties and thought there was some hidden agenda to be gained by his befriending her favorite Gryffindor.

Harry knew differently though. He'd been in the blond's mind, after all, and he'd seen the truth of what had happened to Draco in the war, how it had irrevocably changed him. He'd tasted the fear that had been so much a part of Draco's life before the war had ended. He could understand the Slytherin's reasoning, if not the actions themselves, for most of what Draco had done in the years preceding the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry had completely forgiven him. If Harry had been in Draco's place, who knew what he would have done to protect the ones he loved. In their long talks together, Draco had described his anguish at having been forced to commit heinous acts with the threat that he could either torture the strangers that had been captured, or watch as Voldemort tortured his own mother.

It was clear to Harry why Draco no longer felt a connection with the other students, and why he sought out kinder, gentler souls to surround himself with in the aftermath. But it wasn't as clear to someone without a direct link into the blond's thoughts and memories.

But Harry couldn't very well broadcast his knowledge to everyone else. Eventually they would all see that Draco Malfoy wasn't the insufferable prat they had known for years, but it would take time. Harry would just have to be patient and do what he could to convince the cynics that they were wrong about his friend.

McGonagall was one of those naysayers. She looked at Harry like a son, and wanted no further harm to come to him. There had been so much pain in his life already and she wanted to shield him from whatever she suspected Draco was up to, though she had no proof whatsoever that the Slytherin was up to anything at all.

"Of course, Professor," Harry replied and stepped toward her with Malfoy in tow.

"Alone," she specified and Harry looked bewildered for a moment. He didn't want to cast his friend aside, especially just after their last talk and after witnessing how vulnerable Draco felt in their friendship.

Draco took the decision out of his hands, however, and moved to stand against the far wall where he would wait for Harry to finish with the Headmistress.

"I didn't see your name in the ballot, Harry. Did you forget the deadline?" she asked when it seemed they were out of earshot.

"No, Professor, I didn't. I'm afraid I won't be participating in the tournament," Harry answered, feeling a little guilty. He knew the Gryffindors all counted on him to win whatever challenge he was given the same as he'd won the war, but just like the war, this challenge was to be a collaborative effort, only this time, Harry wanted to sit the fight out. He thought he deserved as much, but it didn't stop him from feeling as though he was betraying his House.

"I see," she murmured, clearly not expecting that answer. She seemed flustered and probably had an entire speech prepared about responsibility and time-management and that she'd let Harry slide this last time and get his name into the running, but now she was at a loss. "Does this have anything to do with Mr. Malfoy?"

"Draco?" Harry clarified, trying to delay, and she nodded. "No," he responded with a furrowed brow. "Why would he have anything to do with it?"

"I thought perhaps he had coerced you into sitting on the sidelines," she suggested, obviously hoping that were true.

"No, if anything he's upset with me for withholding my entry because it will give him less competition," Harry replied and then laughed lightly as he thought of their conversation out by the lake. Draco and Harry becoming friends didn't erase either boys' competitive spirit and Draco longed to beat Harry at something –anything, though he'd failed to reason that they would probably never be matched in the same challenges. They each excelled at entirely opposite subjects.

"That makes no sense," she muttered unbelievingly.

"It makes sense if you're a Slytherin," Harry countered.

"Which you are not," she stated as if she thought he was confused, but Harry merely shrugged. He wasn't going to debate what percentage of green and silver blood ran through his veins in comparison to the red and gold because Harry himself had no idea. Sometimes he suspected the two very different sides of him were in perfect balance, other times they swayed one way or the other depending on his need.

When it seemed she would get no more out of Harry, McGonagall gave him a curt nod. "Very well," she remarked bitterly, "it seems we'll be minus a key player for Gryffindor, but I respect your decision." By her tone, Harry gathered she didn't respect it at all, but she'd always seemed more protective over him than she had with most of the other students. She strode past him purposefully and entered the Great Hall, while Harry grabbed Draco's attention from around the corner.

"What did she want?" Draco asked when they fell into step beside each other once more.

"To guilt me into joining the Gryffindor team in the tournament," Harry told him.

"Did it work?" he asked hopefully.

"If it didn't work when you tried it, what makes you think I would have listened to her?" Harry asked, a soft smile on his lips.

"Because you trust and respect her more," Draco replied easily, as if that were quite obvious.

"Not true," Harry whispered, his emerald gaze willing Draco to understand he wasn't kidding.

Draco smiled and linked arms with Harry as they pushed through the massive door to the Great Hall without another word. Sometimes words just weren't necessary to convey how content they were together.

When they took their seats, Hermione and Ron were already there, looking anxious and excited. Only a few other students arrived after them and quickly fell into place at their own House tables. A silence fell over the hall when McGonagall stood and approached the lectern.

"As I'm sure you all know by now, tonight we'll be announcing the players in this year's Academic Tournament. All the submissions have been reviewed by your Heads of House and the selections have been made," she announced.

"As I mentioned before, the tournament will consist of four challenges per year and a representative from each House will compete, with the winner gaining a point for their House. At the end of the competition, the House with the most points will be the victor of this year's Academic Tournament. As the Gryffindor Head of House, it's my pleasure to announce the champions for Gryffindor," she continued to the cheers of everyone at Harry's table. She began with the First Year's, naming off four students Harry only vaguely knew from milling around the common room and it was the same way with the Second, Third and Fourth years called.

Harry wondered if it was normal not to know many of the younger students or if he was being a snob by not recognizing them. Hermione seemed to know them, but then she seemed to know everything about the castle and its inhabitants, but even Ron looked less clueless than Harry felt as the redhead cheered excitedly for each new name announced.

"Should I know all these people?" Harry whispered to Draco beside him and the blond only rolled his eyes.

"How are we supposed to keep up with all the new arrivals at this school, Potter?" he quipped, as if that was answer enough. "I don't even like students from my _own_ year, so I'm certainly not going to bother getting well acquainted with the others."

Harry smiled and shook his head tolerantly. "But you like me," Harry teased, more a statement than a question and Draco gave him the full weight of his gaze.

"Yes, I do," he replied levelly. "Who would have guessed?"

Feeling his entire body warm at the blond's simple compliment, Harry was forced to avert his gaze and close his mind off yet again. He could tell Draco noticed because there was a brush against his consciousness like a cat trying to coax him into petting it by rubbing against his leg. Harry knew better however, because though it might feel like a soft caress, he suspected Draco was just looking for holes in his defenses. "Stop that," Harry hissed and Draco gave him dangerously narrowed eyes.

"What are you keeping from me?" he demanded, and Harry just shook his head sharply to indicate that they should discuss it later.

"…And Ginny Weasley," McGonagall continued, naming off the Sixth Year students who would participate. Since the war interrupted the school year, and so many students missed the year altogether because of their parents' fear to let them out of their sight, most people were repeating the year they had ended in when the battle began. It was a sore spot for many of the students that had endured Hogwarts when it was run by Death Eaters, but they were given special privileges like extra Hogsmeade weekends and private quarters when everyone else had to share to try and make up for it.

Finally Harry had someone to cheer for that he recognized and Draco looked at him oddly. "Do you still harbor feelings for the Weasel-ette?" he asked, much to Harry's surprise.

"Ginny?" Harry asked. "Merlin, no. Why?"

"You seemed…enthusiastic to hear her name called," Draco observed.

"I'll be just as enthusiastic when your name is called," Harry assured him with a placating wink.

Draco, however, looked affronted. "I expect you to be _more_ enthusiastic," he informed Harry with the first stirrings of a challenging grin.

"I can't show favoritism for a Slytherin," Harry replied, mimicking Draco's haughty drawl with perfection.

"And now, the Seventh Year champions," McGonagall was saying and Draco fell silent beside Harry, who looked worried. He knew this would be the beginning of a blow up when Ron and Hermione found out he hadn't entered. "Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas."

The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers and Ron looked rather proud until he realized Harry's name hadn't been called. Hermione, of course, noticed right off and was studying Harry's reaction to the news that he wasn't one of the chosen competitors and Harry could tell by the gleam in her chocolate brown eyes that she'd already deduced the answer.

"Harry, this is an outrage!" Ron protested. "We should go see McGonagall after supper."

"Why didn't you tell us you weren't entering?" Hermione asked across the table.

"It didn't seem to matter much," Harry replied with a shrug. "I didn't want to keep either of you from putting your names in the ballot."

Ron just gazed at him and Harry could see the moment when two and two made four in Ron's mind. He looked shocked at first, and then angry and then almost resolved. As Harry had mentioned to Draco before, Ron would probably prefer Harry not have entered, since that would give Ron more fame for the task.

While they spoke, Professor Flitwick rattled off the champions of Ravenclaw, which of course Luna was a member of along with Terry Boot and Michael Corner from the Sixth Years. Harry recognized a few others but more by face than by their names. Then Professor Sprout read her list of Hufflepuff students to be competing and Harry found he knew even less of them. When Slughorn stood up to read off the Slytherin competitors, Harry felt Draco perk at his side. Joining Draco in his year were Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.

When Draco's name was called, Harry stood and whooped as loud as he could until Draco pulled him back down with a hiss and his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. "I was joking, Potter," he sighed, looking both mortified, yet decidedly pleased with Harry's grandstanding.

"You should know better than to challenge a Gryffindor, Malfoy," Harry replied with a wink.

"Those of you whose names I have called, congratulations," McGonagall added. "Your Heads of House will be meeting with you after dinner to go over what will be required of you on your specific task. If at any point you'd like to withdrawal your name, see me and I'll set about finding a substitute." With that, she scanned the crowd to see if there were any questions and then the meal appeared on the tables and students went silent as they all tucked in.

"So, will you tell me who in Gryffindor is assigned to what challenge when I see you in the morning?" Draco asked, nudging Harry in the ribs.

"I couldn't do that!" Harry gasped in mock horror.

"Come on, Potter. Play for the other team just this once," he goaded, but Draco's words carried a distinctly different tune in Harry's mind and he blushed furiously at the implications.

"You know that if I find out, you will too," Harry said after a deep breath. "No secrets, remember?" Harry felt bad holding back from Draco, he could easily sympathize with the Slytherin's stance against secrets. It seemed their entire lives had been based on and ruled by things they weren't allowed to share with anyone, so Harry knew why Draco didn't want any secrets between them. Harry felt the same way; he just didn't know how to explain this particular problem.

Draco squeezed Harry's shoulder lightly and parted from him with a smile as he headed down toward the dungeons while Harry started upstairs. Hermione quickly filled the void where Draco had been standing and Harry looked down at her cautiously. "A word, Harry," she whispered firmly and gripped Harry by the elbow and into a dark corner of the common room when they arrived inside.

"What's up with you and Malfoy?" she asked bluntly when they were finally seated.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowed into curious slits.

"You've been ogling him for a couple weeks now. Are you actually going to tell him that you fancy him or are you going to refrain from tossing your name in for consideration there as well?" she sniped.

"That's unfair," Harry grumbled. "I had perfectly good reasons not to enter my name in for the tournament."

"Oh?" she replied, looking modestly interested, "and what were those?"

"I'm done fighting, Mione," Harry sighed, leaning into his chair and casting his eyes up to the ceiling. "I just want a break from the clamor. I just want a moment to be normal before we graduate."

"But just think of how a win in this tournament would look on your Auror application," she pressed, not giving up. Harry was just happy he'd distracted her from her ramblings about Malfoy.

"Hermione, you're being naïve if you think that I won't get into the Auror program. You know as well as anyone that the Ministry is practically salivating to have me under their thumb," he replied, albeit bitterly.

Everything he'd thought about the Ministry and being an Auror had changed over the last few years and he was beginning to wonder if he wanted a part of any of it after all.

"Even so," she huffed, not willing to argue that point, "you're leaving your house high and dry here, Harry."

"You'll do fine, the whole lot of you. I don't understand why everyone is making such a big deal out of this," he grumbled.

"I'm just worried about you," she admitted more softly. "I can feel you slipping away from us, growing more and more detached, and now with this Malfoy infatuation-"

"I'm not infatuated with Malfoy," Harry denied avidly. "He's my friend. He's your friend too," he pointed out swiftly.

"Only because I don't want to upset you," she replied firmly. "But the way you two have been acting lately seems like much more than friendship. Are you and Malfoy dating?"

"Why would you think that?" Harry asked, swallowing thickly. If this was the reception such an idea got when it wasn't even true, how much worse would it be if it were?

"That wasn't a 'no'," she observed and Harry rolled his eyes.

"No," he replied, drawing the word out much longer than necessary. "I'm not dating Malfoy."

"But you want to," she corrected.

"I-" he began but then promptly snapped his mouth shut. "I don't know what I want," he admitted at last.

Hermione sighed and seemed to lighten up now that at least one of her theories was going unchallenged. "He seems nicer," she admitted.

"He is. He's kinder and more thoughtful than he was before the war, but he's still Malfoy," Harry sighed, "and we're just friends."

"But you want more?" she guessed.

"I really like him, Hermione. He's funny and charming and stubborn and beautiful," Harry rambled, unaware that Hermione's mouth was taking on a mischievous smile. "He just doesn't see me that way though, and I enjoy being his friend too much to jeopardize that."

"What if you discovered he felt the same?" she prompted, slightly deflated after the last remark.

Harry shrugged and looked sulky. "That's a big what if," he muttered.

"Maybe, maybe not," Hermione chimed in a singsong voice, which cued Harry into what was going on finally.

"What are you up to, Mione?" he prodded, adopting the tone Malfoy often used when he was suspicious of her. "You can't tell him, you just can't," he pleaded.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Harry. I just need some time to think," she murmured and drifted away from their little corner leaving Harry to worry over what it was his friend was up to. Within the hour a third of the students from the common room were summoned together and McGonagall instructed them as to what events each student would be participating as she gave them as much information as she could on the challenge itself.

Afterward Harry found out that Hermione had been given a potions challenge where she was supposed to craft a Sleep Draught in less time than the other combatants as well as its antidote. Ron was marked with outflying the other students in an obstacle course that would be created for the tournament. Neville, of course, was given the Herbology challenge and would be tasked to create a maze of hissing briar, a thorny vine that could poison anyone accidentally pricked by it. Dean was put in place for the Transfiguration challenge, where he'd be required to be the first of the four competing students to accurately transfigure twenty-five different items into specified objects.

It seemed pretty straight forward and Harry was relieved to find out there wasn't going to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts challenge for their year since he would have excelled in that. As such, he felt less guilty when he went to bed that night, though he was more worried about Hermione and whatever plans she had cooking. She'd given him the most frightening smile before going off into her own dorm. "I think I've got a plan," she told him cryptically and then just disappeared inside.

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"Hermione's paired with you in the potions event," Harry told Draco the moment he saw him the next morning.

"Granger?" he repeated. "That's brilliant. It seems I have my challenge after all," he mused.

"So, everyone seems okay that I didn't enter," Harry noted, a bit relieved.

"Who else's feelings mattered aside from my own?" Draco asked, looking genuinely puzzled for a moment before he let his face slip into a handsome grin.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Malfoy, but I'm afraid you won't be brewing an arrogance potion in the tournament," Harry quipped. "I can see that's what you've been practicing."

Draco smiled and linked arms with Harry on the way into the Great Hall. It was a common gesture for the blond, who Harry had never noticed being terribly touchy-feely with anyone else. Harry wondered what that meant – if anything – and if it might serve to indicate something more than simply being content in Harry's presence.

"I don't need a potion to be aware how amazing I am, Potter. Surely you of all people should know this by now?" he goaded and Harry shook his head.

"Me? No, I don't know anything about that. I know how stubborn you are and how competitive, but amazing? That seems to have escaped me," Harry mused as if giving it some real thought.

"I'm not stubborn," he countered, ignoring the rest.

"Of course not," Harry replied with an indulgent smile. He was so comfortable around the Slytherin, falling easily into the banter they had together. This was the very reason he could never let his feelings for the other boy slip out into the open. It would ruin this, make it stunted and awkward, and Harry couldn't cope with that. He could imagine the stunning blond pressed against him, shouting out Harry's name into the air as Harry gave him the most terrific orgasm, but he often squashed that picture in favor of his contentment with the blond just the way he was. Just walking beside the blond made him feel loved and wanted - he wouldn't push his luck.

"What?" Draco asked, pausing so that Harry had to stop too. Their arms were still joined but Draco was looking at them like they belonged to someone else entirely.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, not understanding the abrupt change in behavior.

"You…you're projecting at me, Potter," Draco said, his voice hushed and cautious as he slowly extracted his arm from Harry's and took a step back, staring at his friend with wide eyes. "You fancy me?"

All the blood drained from Harry's face with those words and his heartbeat sped up. "Don't be ridiculous," he replied, trying to laugh but it came out shaking and desperate.

"It was all right there in your head, Potter," Draco continued, his voice distant and eerily calm. "I don't understand. Why have you been keeping this from me?"

"I haven't kept anything from you," Harry huffed, trying to regain his footing. He searched his mind for something to say that would make things better, erase whatever it was that Draco had picked up from his thoughts. "It's nothing, just a stupid thought, just a stupid crush. I'll get over it. Just forget it, okay?"

Draco had never looked so expressive in his whole life as he did in that moment. His usually stoic demeanor looked momentarily offended, and then crushed, as if his entire world was crumbling out from under him. When Harry dove into his mind, he could hear that the boy wanted to run away, wanted to find a Time Turner and go back so that he hadn't heard Harry's mental confession, wanted to find a Headache potion and hide for the rest of the afternoon. None of these things were good. None of these things held an inkling of affection or feelings that might somehow mirror Harry's. Draco was repulsed by the idea of loving a man, or at least, that's what Harry deduced from his thoughts before Draco threw him out of his mind and glared at him in earnest.

"I'll appreciate it if you stayed out of my mind, Potter," he replied, and the name came with as much acid as it had before the war. With that parting warning, Draco turned on his heel and fled, away from the Great Hall and toward the dungeons.

"Well, that went well," Harry muttered sullenly to himself. His heart was shattering into pieces, but Hermione came up beside him and swiftly scooped them up.

"I heard," she told him with a wince. "I hadn't expected him to be so harsh."

"What do you mean you hadn't expected…what did you do?" Harry hissed and she looked suitably chagrined.

"I cast an amplification spell on your thoughts," she admitted. "I knew you two had been experimenting with reading one another's minds, and I thought if he heard from your head how sincere you were with your affections that he would-"

"That he would what?" Harry demanded. "Leap into my arms and snog me senseless? That's not Draco. He's far more pragmatic than that."

Harry's knees nearly collapsed out from under him as he realized he'd lost his best friend at the hands of another friend. He probably couldn't stay mad at Hermione for meddling and ruining his easy relationship with Draco, but he could sure try.

"I need to be alone," he whispered and tugged away from her prying grip and pitying eyes and headed out to the lake, the place he enjoyed spending so much time with Malfoy. It seemed it wasn't in the stars for him to court Draco. The blond had been disgusted by the very suggestion of being more than friends, so that left Harry alone again, without the only other person in the world that made him feel like he'd at least partially fit in, the only person who had embraced Harry's Slytherin tendencies as surely as he accepted – though teased – the Gryffindor side. The only person, who seemed to have no hidden agenda for being friends with him, didn't want or need him to be a hero. Now, that confidant was gone and Harry didn't know how to proceed.

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Author's Note: Part two to follow soon. I hope you've all enjoyed part one!


	9. Sleeping Beauty: Part 2

Author's Note: Many thanks to Deb, Mary and Shannon for looking over this story for me.

Sleeping Beauty Part 2

There were twenty-eight challenges total in the Academic Tournament, and Harry skipped most of them in his mission to steer clear of Draco Malfoy at all costs. It sounded as if the earliest tasks were mundane anyway. First Year's were required to do things like identify a Flobberworm in a patch of other creatures and so on and so forth and Harry thought it was best his lack of excitement not mingle with that of an already lackluster challenge.

Other tasks had included tuning and playing ten different magical instruments, some of which Harry had never even seen before, and a wizard's chess match between the four houses until Ravenclaw proved victorious. Ravenclaw had also won the Sixth Year challenge where the students were set to outsmart a dragon with riddles. Harry hadn't known it was possible, but some of the more ancient breeds of dragons still used them as methods to trick thieves who tried to steal their treasure. It was hardly a fair match since Ravenclaws were experts in the field of riddling because they had to be clever enough to decipher them just to get inside their own common room.

Most of this was hearsay, of course, since Harry couldn't be bothered to stray too close to any of the tournament challenges for fear of running into Malfoy. Since classes had been suspended until the tournament was over, Harry had experienced a good deal of success in his mission so far, and he had no intention of sullying his victory of avoidance by waltzing into a space he was sure to find the blond. If he tried very hard, Harry could pretend nothing unsavory had happened between him and the Slytherin at all, that perhaps Draco was merely on holiday, or busy with schoolwork that kept him from Harry's side. Deep down Harry knew that none of his flimsy excuses would work to stifle the hurt and loss he felt when Draco had walked away from him after learning of his feelings.

Even though he would have rather burrowed into a hole and slept for a hundred years, he had to go to Ron's challenge and show his support. He was thankful the Slytherin had decided to forgo watching that particular task, permitting him to cheer as much as his broken heart would allow as his redheaded friend dipped, spun and dove through the obstacle course, winning a point for Gryffindor. By the end of the first week of challenges, Gryffindor had six points and was narrowly leading Slytherin who had four. Ravenclaw had two points and as expected, no one in Hufflepuff had yet to score for their House.

The beginning of the second week brought the Seventh Year Potions challenge, which was to successfully brew the draught of living death and its antidote. With great reluctance, Harry made his way down to the dungeons and took a seat amongst the other spectators. He was obligated to go and watch Hermione, of course, even though that also meant seeing Draco again, bringing his days of peaceful denial to a crashing halt. Harry tried to tell himself that this would be just like every other day, that he would treat it as if Draco weren't even there and ignore the blond as deftly as possibly. His own shields were painfully erected, making sure the Slytherin caught not even a hint of his sorrow or continued feelings of affection. He refused to be shown as weak in front of the Slytherin ever again.

He tried to avert his gaze as Draco took his seat in between Ryan Wendell and Isabelle Rosen, a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively. Hermione sat on one end, and though he was still privately livid with her, he had accepted her apologies for butting into his business with Draco and they had been civil during the first week of the tournament. It wasn't until the blond looked up at him, immediately catching his gaze that Harry lost the ability to breathe.

Those smoldering eyes, so bright and clear, drilled a hole through him, and Harry could feel that gaze start to breach his carefully crafted walls. With a violent shake of his head he glared down at the blond and turned away, storming from the room with an angry huff. The Slytherin wasn't playing fair. He wanted to keep his own mental privacy, but wouldn't give Harry the same respect? "Fucking Slytherin," Harry cursed as he marched further down the corridor. "I hope you drink that stupid Sleeping Draught and never wake up," he muttered to himself as he fled the castle to sit once more at the lake's side.

Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to quiet his mind, wishing he could be stronger. How was it he had the power and determination to face Voldemort and his own death but he couldn't even stand to be in the same room as Draco Malfoy and not feel like he was stripped bare and vulnerable.

He stayed there for hours, watching the water ripple along the surface of the Black Lake as he thought of what could have been. The bond he had felt with Draco was now shattered around his feet like a broken mirror and each piece seemed to reflect a different story, a different future that could have blossomed before him, had Hermione not taken it upon herself to interfere in his love life.

She wondered why Harry was growing distant from her and Ron, but if this was what his friendship with them would hold, than perhaps Harry should work harder at keeping away from them both. He sighed then, shaking his head with the knowledge that he didn't have it within him to abandon his friends, no matter how much they annoyed him sometimes. Hermione had only been trying to help, though she'd done exactly the opposite. Still, at least she helped Harry see that he was only dragging himself deeper and deeper into an illusion if he thought Draco might ever one day love him back.

When he felt that more than enough time has passed to allow the task to be completed and the students to have all dispersed, Harry stood and stretched before turning to make his long trek back to the castle. The courtyard outside was silent, and Harry wondered if the chill in the air had kept everyone inside until he made it halfway to Gryffindor Tower without spotting a single person. That was peculiar. Perhaps he hadn't given it enough time and the challenge was still going on in the dungeons. If that were true, Harry would give anything to see Malfoy's face. It would have taken a catastrophe of some kind not to complete his potions task by now and he would no doubt be livid by his progress, or lack thereof.

Wandering back to the dungeons, Harry stopped when he saw the door still ajar and people inside, but the eerie silence still lingered. He stepped inside the room and caught his breath as he realized no one was speaking, or moving. He had to lean in close just to hear their shallow breathing. Hermione, Draco, Ryan and Isabelle were still sitting in the center of the crowd, bending over their individual cauldrons, although Malfoy's was suspiciously empty. When Harry looked closer, he noticed the remnants were all over the walls and the staff and the other students. Harry alone seemed to be the only person left awake in all of Hogwarts.

A flutter to his left made Harry jump, and before he could register what was happening, a winged creature bent over Malfoy's prone form. Harry spared no time leveling his wand at the creature and growled menacingly. "Get away from him."

The creature looked up and Harry could see now that it wasn't a creature at all, but a beautiful girl. She was petite and her skin seemed to contain fireflies that illuminated her flesh from within. Her hair was the deepest sapphire blue that Harry had ever seen and flowed in long, curly tendrils from her pale scalp. She blinked up at him and Harry instinctively lowered his wand and bowed.

The girl giggled and took to the air, where Harry noticed for the first time that she had fluttering, translucent wings. "It seems the potion missed one," she cooed, her voice twinkling like a star. "No matter. This one is mine. You have no claim on him," she told Harry, her arms twining around Draco's limp torso.

If her words hadn't broken Harry of his besotted haze, her possessive stance over Draco's body did. "He's not yours," Harry spat; panic roiling through him when he saw his Slytherin in danger.

"Oh, yes he is," she hissed, all friendly qualities drained quickly from her tone. "I've been coveting this one for years and I've finally been presented with the perfect opportunity to grab him up. With a little preparation, he'll be the perfect addition to my collection. It would be best if you just forgot about him, because only his true love's kiss could rouse him from this state."

Harry's heart sank and broke at the words, knowing he was no such thing to the beautiful blond. Still, he wasn't going to let some mad faerie fly off with his friend. His wand leveled on her form once more and he took a step closer, aiming at her heart. "I won't let you hurt him."

"You can do nothing to stop me," she growled, letting Draco's shoulders go and alighting on the table in front of Harry. "Who are you anyway? How did you resist the explosion?"

So that was what happened. Harry bet Malfoy would be utterly humiliated when he woke to find his potion had exploded and put everyone to sleep. "I wasn't here," Harry admitted and the faerie seemed to scrutinize his answer before nodding.

"Yes, I see that now. You're a brave one though, aren't you?" she chirped, fluttering closer to Harry with each word.

Harry narrowed his eyes and gripped his wand tighter. "Just go away and leave Draco alone."

"You seem awfully concerned about him," she purred, "and awfully resistant to my charms." Her blue eyes narrowed into slits and Harry felt a bubbling of pleasure roil through him but it dissipated almost as soon as it began. One tiny hand reached out and touched his face before Harry could stop her and she pulled away with a snarl. "You?"

"Me what?" Harry stammered. He couldn't seem to think straight with the faerie in the room. It was like she filled his mind with honey and lavender. All he wanted to do was kiss her and then fall into a deep sleep. His mind knew well enough that it would be his last sleep if he acted on those urges and stepped further away from the enraged faerie.

"It can't be. It's not possible," she ranted, flying over to Draco's limp body once more and scooping him into her arms. She was surprisingly strong for her small stature and glared at Harry ominously as she lifted the blond into the air. "I don't care if you are the one. You won't have him!" she shouted before popping herself and his Draco out of sight and to Godric knew where.

"What in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean?" he asked the air where the faerie and Draco had just been a moment before. He felt at a complete and utter loss. There was no one awake to help him, he didn't know the first thing about faeries and all he wanted was his Draco back, but he had no idea where to start looking.

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The first place Harry went was to raid the potions storeroom. He wished he had paid more attention in class when they'd gone over the antidote for the sleeping drought, but he figured there had to be some brewed already. The walls were covered with shelves, which were in turn covered with vials and bottles and jars. He scanned all the labels and cursed when he found nothing useful and glanced over them again more slowly to be certain he hadn't missed something the first time. Tucked in the back was a thin, corked vial filled with a murky brown liquid.

He read the label again, 'Essence of Mandrake', and seemed to recall reading that if lacking an antidote, the Mandrake was usually a good place to start. There wasn't much left though, maybe not even one full dose, so he wasn't sure how to proceed, but pocketed the vial and made to leave, stopping only when he heard his name called.

"Stealing from me again, Potter? You should know better by now but I suppose nothing I say could ever get through that thick skull of yours."

Harry turned to face the portrait of Snape hanging on the wall and fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was only a painting after all; the man could no longer _do_ anything to him. "How could I be stealing from you? You're dead. Not to mention you're the Defense Professor now, you don't even belong here." He knew even as he spoke the words that Draco must have left Snape there while he was studying. Draco always found the man's presence calming, which was absurdly opposite from how everyone else felt about having Severus Snape looming over them. At least he couldn't swat students in the back of the head from his place in the portrait.

"Has no one ever told you that you should respect the dead?" he snapped, looking dourer by the minute.

"Afraid not," Harry quipped. "Hey, do you know what I would need the wake someone up from the drought of living death?"

"The antidote, of course," Snape replied lamely.

"And that would be?" Harry pressed, growing anxious.

"Why? Are you planning some Gryffindor mischief?" he asked suspiciously.

"The whole school's been put to sleep, and then a faerie ran off with Draco and now I'm the only one who can wake everyone up and save Draco from the evil imp," Harry explained with a blush. It all sounded so ridiculous when he said it out loud.

Snape glared at him intolerantly and mumbled under his breath about the elaborate tales Gryffindors weave in order to get out of trouble. Eventually he leveled his gaze on the boy and sneered. "You'll have to do better than that if you want my help."

With an exasperated sigh, Harry grabbed Snape's portrait and started sprinting toward the competition area, ignoring the man's rude protests and vile curses as he went. When he got to the room, still covered in sleeping staff and students, he whirled the painting around so that Snape could see.

"Told you so," Harry muttered as Snape gaped at the sight in front of him.

"What did you do?" he bellowed and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Do you really think that I'm capable of this?" Harry replied, trying to appeal to Snape's incapacity to think of Harry as clever enough to do more than scrub out cauldrons. As the Potions Master studied the scene and eventually scrunched up his face in disgust, Harry assumed his plan had worked.

"No, this was the work of a good potion gone awry, and you were never capable of making a good potion," he admitted. Apparently Snape was willing to agree with Harry so long as he got to insult him in the process.

"So, how can I fix it? So far as I can tell, I'm the only one awake," Harry pressed. He'd already wasted enough time just trying to convince Snape of the truth. The professor was silent for a long moment as he studied the scene, but eventually he got an answer – just not the one he'd wanted.

"You can't," Snape replied and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I know I didn't pay very good attention in your class, but with your guidance now, I think I could brew-" Harry started to argue, but Snape cut him off.

"My answer has nothing to do with your talent, or lack thereof, in potions. This room has been cursed; I can feel it trying to peel the paint away from my frame. You mentioned a faerie earlier?" he asked and Harry nodded. "It seems she's done more than simply kidnap my godson. The people in this room will not wake up until Draco wakes up," he explained. "Besides, it would take months to brew this much antidote," he added with a casual wave of his hand. "Now, get me out of here before I fall asleep as well."

"Maybe you'd be more tolerable in that state," Harry pondered aloud, fully aware of Snape's malicious glare. "But, I might need your help later, so I suppose I could move you from the vicinity for now."

Snape seemed to sigh with relief from within his frame as Harry moved him into the next room. "She'll try to kill you if you go after him," Snape warned.

"The operative word there is try," Harry replied, some of Draco's smugness had apparently rubbed off on him.

"Well, you are rather adept at defying death, but you must be careful. She'll set traps and she'll use whatever she can against you. Faeries don't fight fair," the man explained, almost as if he cared about Harry's well being.

"Constant vigilance!" Harry shouted as he gave the portrait a mock salute.

"You're not taking this seriously enough, Potter," Snape growled, but Harry had already left the room, heading toward Gryffindor tower where he could fetch the Marauder's Map. Surely that would show him where Draco was if the boy was still in the building. He didn't need Snape's reminders to be cautious, it's not as if he always went blindly into trouble or anything….

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The journey up to Gryffindor tower seemed much longer than usual.

Harry knew it wasn't strictly due to his impatience either, because he was fairly certain that the stairs and corridors weren't usually covered in thick, thorny vines. He remembered that one of the tasks was for the Fourth Year champions to make their way through a briar maze, and it seemed the unwieldy plant had gotten a little overzealous while the professor who was supposed to be controlling it was asleep. He wondered what other tasks had gotten out of control without the proper monitoring, but reckoned he would be finding out soon enough.

He slashed through the brambles with perfectly executed cutting charms, parting a way large enough for his slender body to worm through. He wasn't getting anywhere though. Just as soon as he'd cut a vine away, another would unfurl and latch itself to another bit and block his path once more. Worse, the giant thorns seemed to drip an ominous green fluid that Harry was certain had to be poisonous.

The errand seemed to take forever, but eventually Harry made it to the topmost floor and shouted the password to the Fat Lady's portrait. Sprinting to his room, he rummaged in his trunk until he found the map, and then searched impatiently for Draco's name. Sure enough, the faerie had kept him there in the castle. According to the map, he was being held in the Astronomy tower, which would have been easy to get to if not for the insidious plant just outside the common room.

A thought occurred to him that he wished he'd had around the second floor, and he dashed back to the trunk to retrieve his broom. The flight from Gryffindor tower to the Astronomy tower would be a short one, and he'd have Draco rescued in no time.

Not that Harry knew what he would do once he got there.

Shoving the map into his pocket, Harry leapt on his broom and rocketed out the window, marveling at what a beautiful day it was. It was a shame that he was the only one awake to witness it.

Harry was trying to prove Snape wrong by being more cautious than he might usually be. He didn't take a flight path straight to the other tower. Instead, he flew low along the parapets, trying to conceal himself against the dark shingles in case the faerie, or any one else was keeping an eye out for him.

In his deep focus while flying, another focus must have been compromised, because in the next moment Harry heard a voice in his head that certainly wasn't his own, and it was calling out to him. He couldn't believe he'd allowed his barriers to collapse and felt a sudden twinge of worry that he would never be able to ask Draco to help him practice with his concentration. Still, the relief at hearing Draco's voice, alive and well, was more important to him in that moment than anything else.

"Harry, watch out!"

The voice shouted through his mind again, though it held a drowsy edge, it still had the distinct and unmistakable flavor of Draco. He could hardly contain his excitement at hearing the blond's voice in his head again, and he nearly ignored the second warning in his joy.

"Duck!"

Harry did, just in the nick of time, before a giant, spiny tail flung through the air and directly at him. Instead of crashing into his body and snapping him like a dry twig, it smashed into the roof of the castle, carving a sizable dent in the structure.

"Brilliant," Harry muttered to himself against the wind. "Always a bloody dragon around when I really don't need one."

Draco's voice chuckled in his mind and urged him forward. "Just be careful," the blond said. "I know you can beat it."

A smile came to Harry's lips unbidden, and for a moment he forgot all about his rift with the Slytherin and instead focused on getting himself off the dragon's radar. "You'd think that with what happened during my Tri-Wizard task, the school wouldn't allow dragons on the premise anymore."

"They do make for a very entertaining show," Draco reminded him, eliciting scoffing laughter from Harry. "I remember the terrified look on your face when that Horntail came after you. Priceless."

"You're pretty funny for a guy under a faerie coma," Harry replied bitterly.

"Touché, Potter," he replied and then remained silent while Harry dipped through the air, trying to dodge another swipe of the Dragon's tail. "That was close."

"How do you even know? You can't see me…can you?" Harry asked, a bit less sure than he would have liked.

"I can see what you see," Draco replied.

"Can you see anything about where you are? Is the faerie there? Are you hurt?" Harry asked, ice running through his veins at the very idea of that faerie harming a hair on Draco's beautiful head.

"I can't see her…well, I can't see anything at all, but I can feel her. She's here somewhere," he confirmed. "I don't think I'm hurt. I feel very numb though."

"I can't imagine why," Harry shot back sarcastically. "I should win the House Cup myself for this nonsense. I don't suppose I could persuade you to just wake the bloody hell up."

"Oh, gee. I wish I would have thought of that hours ago," Draco replied unhelpfully. Harry could feel the blond rolling his eyes through their connection but he still couldn't stop the smile on his lips. This was how it had been before he, or Hermione rather, had fouled up their friendship by allowing Draco to glimpse the part of his mind he'd been hiding. He hoped that when he finally rescued Draco that things could stay this way, but he feared he was being naïve.

"About that," Draco whispered. "I'm sorry I ran."

"Not now, Malfoy," Harry hissed as he swooped through the air in complicated evasive maneuvers. He shouldn't have even been thinking about it, but he certainly couldn't have this conversation with Draco and outrun a dragon at the same time.

"Just listen to me then," he huffed. "I like you, Harry."

"I know, I know, just not like that," Harry finished for him but Draco only growled.

"What will it take to get you to shut up already?" Draco shouted through his mind. Heat ran across Harry's back and he realized that he'd barely missed a spout of flame from the Dragon's mouth.

"This really isn't a good time, Malfoy," Harry warned, his voice tense. "I told you it was stupid, that I would get over it, can we just drop it?"

"No!" Draco replied sharply, his voice becoming less and less hazy in Harry's mind. "Because I don't want you to get over it and if you call it stupid again I'll figure out a way to wake myself up from this magical sleep just to throttle you!"

"What?" Harry asked, his attention completely distracted by the blond's words. So much so, that the dragon took his advantage and launched forward, clamping his teeth into the bristles of Harry's broom. The Gryffindor teetered on the handle, grasping it with all his might to keep from tumbling to his death, and all the while he could hear Draco's frightened shouts in his mind.

He should have been more worried that the dragon was seconds away from dashing his body against the side of the castle, but all he could think about was what Draco had said. He didn't mind that Harry fancied him, and he didn't want Harry to stop. "Do you fancy me too?" Harry asked breathlessly, his heart beating frantically in anticipation of Draco's answer.

"I can't very well be in love with you if you're dead, Harry! Get the hell away from that bloody dragon!" he demanded.

That was all Harry needed to hear. A smile broke out across his face despite the peril he was in. Looking ahead, he saw that the Dragon was about to careen them both into the castle wall, and Harry knew that he would not survive that kind of blow. Seeing an opportunity, he leapt sideways off the side of his broom, arching his body while he covered his head with his arms. He dove off of his broom and into a closed window as the dragon flew by on its kamikaze mission. Shattering glass fell all around him and Harry tucked and rolled, trying to escape the shards before they pierced his skin and mostly succeeded. He wasted no time before breaking into a sprint to try and get to the Astronomy tower.

"I thought I told you to be careful," hissed a voice that was decidedly not Draco's. Harry whirled to see a painting on the wall, and Snape's face staring menacingly down at him. It looked as though he had forced the painting's previous occupant – a disgruntled looking old woman – into a nearby portrait of a kingly looking toad.

"I was being careful," Harry pointed out, spinning around so that his old professor could see him properly. "See, not even a scratch."

"You call burrowing through thorny brush and fighting off dangerous dragons 'being careful'?" Snape demanded.

"I call it 'doing what's necessary to save Draco'," Harry corrected and grinned. "Your concern is noted, however. It warms my heart to know you were worried about me, Snape." Harry felt emboldened by his race with the dragon, and even more so by Draco's declaration that he felt the same as Harry. Although it certainly didn't hurt that Snape was only a portrait now and incapable of hexing him.

"It will always be Professor Snape to you, you sappy little Gryffindor," he challenged, but Harry didn't have time for the old Potion Master's antics just now. He could feel Draco's relief course through him, mingling with his own giddy surprise that Draco returned his feelings. He had to save him from the faerie's clutches before it was too late. Who knew how long she'd keep him in the tower.

So, he shot the portrait a cheeky grin and took off without supplying the man with an answer of any kind. Besides, he had something he needed to discuss with his damsel in distress.

"So why did you run?" he asked Draco, when danger seemed to be far behind him.

"You made it sound like you didn't _want _to fancy me, like it was all a big mistake that you were trying to eliminate," Draco muttered.

"I just didn't think you felt the same. I didn't want you to stop being my friend because you felt awkward," Harry replied silently as he neared the closed door that would take him to Draco.

"I realize that now. It seems I've been spending too much time with you. Your tendency to jump to conclusions must have rubbed off on me," he teased.

"That's unfair. I most certainly do not jump to conclusions," Harry argued. "Ever!"

"Whatever you say, boyfriend," Draco replied and that stopped Harry in his tracks.

"What did you just call me?" he asked, a wide grin breaking across his face.

"Something you'll never get to hear again if you don't get in here and save me!" Draco replied, his voice a desperate hiss. "I think she knows you're here!"

Harry paused and ducked low to the ground as he eased the door open. Sure enough, a curse flew over his head, right where his chest would have been if not for Draco's warning. He fired back, but he couldn't see where the faerie was and his shot went too wide.

The faerie screamed, a high-pitched, nasty little noise and Harry had to cover his ears for fear his head might explode from the sound of it. He saw Draco at once, lying prone on one of the benches, and his heart ached to see him so defenseless. He ran, weaving through the spells the faerie tried to hit him with until he stood defending his love, very much enjoying how that sounded in his mind.

Harry put up a shield Charm so that he could get a closer look at Draco to ensure he hadn't been harmed. The faerie had placed Draco in the most ridiculous looking Edwardian outfit; complete with a frilly cravat and pearly white stockings. Harry would have laughed except he didn't think Draco would find the humor in being transformed into a porcelain doll for the faerie to play with.

"Kiss me!" Draco gasped through his mind, and Harry looked down at his unmoving form with impatience.

"I don't think now is the time to start snogging, Draco," he huffed, but the blond's voice in his head was insistent.

"Just shut up and kiss me, Harry!" he demanded, and Harry found he was unable to deny the blond anything.

Harry leaned down; ignoring the shrieking protests from the wicked little faerie and pressed his lips to Draco's for the first time. As far as first kisses went, it was a bit one-sided. But just as Harry was about to pull away, he felt Draco's fingers twine through his wild hair and those previously lifeless lips responded with fervor, drinking Harry in.

A soft moan vibrated through him, and Harry found himself exploring every inch of the Slytherin's mouth, memorizing it in case this was all an elaborate dream. When they finally broke apart, Draco sighed contentedly and gazed up into Harry's bright, emerald eyes. "I always knew you were my knight in shining armor," he whispered, which brought a tender smile to Harry's lips.

"Do you have a fetish for being rescued? Should I be worried?" Harry teased, but Draco grabbed his neck and pulled him into another kiss. It wasn't until they stopped, each gasping for breath, that Harry realized he should have been hit by a curse long before now.

Grasping Harry's line of thinking, Draco turned and they both looked over to see the faerie staring at them with a petulant pout on her face. "I never get to have any fun," she huffed. "You blasted humans and your _true love_," she whined, making the words sound like they were an unwanted substance on her tongue, "always mucking everything up!"

The faerie practically stomped her foot in frustration and all Harry could do was roll his eyes. "If you're going to kill us, would you get it over with already," he groaned.

"How about you stop being so hasty, Harry," Draco warned through gritted teeth, his fake smile unwavering.

"You should listen to the blond one," the faerie snarled. "He's obviously the more clever of the two of you, not that that's saying much."

"Hey!" both boys protested at once, but the faerie just waved away their shouts and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Nevermind," she huffed. "It doesn't matter anyway. Now that you've kissed him awake, I can't touch either of you." Harry got the distinct feeling, by the tone she used, that he and Draco were supposed to feel sorry for foiling her plans, but she popped out of sight in the next moment, so Harry simply sagged with relief instead.

"Do you think she's coming back?" Harry asked.

"Probably not," Draco mused. "Faeries are fickle creatures. She's probably already moved on to a new target by now."

"Do you think we should go and make sure everyone else is awake?" Harry asked, staring into his lover's mercurial eyes.

"I'm not too worried about it," Draco replied, planting another lingering kiss on Harry's lips. "I'm sure they'll wake up eventually, and if they don't we can always seek help from the Ministry."

"Aren't you curious which House will take the cup?" Harry asked, pursing his lips. The blond had made such a big deal out of it only weeks ago, but now he seemed thoroughly distracted.

Draco shrugged and ran his fingers along Harry's jaw. "I think you were right before. You should win it for saving the entire school."

"But I was only trying to save you. Do I get a prize from you as well?" Harry asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"We can reenact your heroic saving of my life if you'd like?" Draco offered and Harry grinned.

"Only this time, perhaps it wouldn't be simply a kiss that woke you from your enchanted sleep," Harry proposed.

"Oh, my dirty little knight in shining armor, whatever will I do with you?" Draco purred as he pulled his boyfriend on top of him and plied him with kisses.

"Well, you've had a nice long nap, so you should have plenty of energy to experiment," Harry goaded and Draco chuckled, his eyes filled with lust at he stared up into his boyfriend's eyes. Draco could have told Harry he loved him right then, but he didn't need to. There were no more secrets between them now, and Harry could feel those three little words whooshing through his mind as if Draco had said them aloud.

And in a way, that was even better, because Harry knew it was true.

FIN

Author's Note: I had fun with this one, even though it took me a while to finish it. Next up, Snow White and the Seven Weasleys. If anyone has a request, well, I'm sure you all know how to get in touch with me by now, and if you don't you can find that info on my profile.


	10. Snow White: Part 1

Author's Note: Many thanks again to Deb, Mary and Shannon for their beta assistance here.

Snow White and the Seven Weasleys – Part 1

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who is the most powerful of them all?"

Voldemort glared into the glassy surface of the mirror and waited for the answer he always received. That he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was the most powerful wizard in the world, and that no one could stand in the way of his plan to dominate the wizarding world and abolish the Earth of Muggles.

"You, Lord Riddle, are powerful, true, but a babe was just born more powerful than you."

Tom smiled, an icy curl of his lips that would be imperceptible to most, but that pleasure faltered as he realized the mirror hadn't spouted its usual glowing praise and instead, spoke of a newborn that it considered more powerful than himself. It was preposterous!

"Show me!" he demanded, his voice a deep and throaty growl.

The mirror shimmered and parted like water being dispersed by a boulder and a cloudy image came into view. The picture grew clearer and clearer until Tom could easily make out the tidy, blue bassinet rocking gently in the corner. A woman's voice, soft and sweet, sung to the child as she rocked him. Riddle recognized the woman at once, her deep red hair and bright green eyes made her impossible to mistake, as Lily Evans Potter, the woman his faithful Death Eater, Severus, had been pining over.

Voldemort took a deep breath and waved the image away. There was no way that this infant could be more powerful than him. "He's just a child, not even of age to practice magic yet," he grumbled at the mirror.

"As a child, he surely poses no threat, but when Potter comes of age, he will ensure your death," the mirror answered and all that could be heard throughout the manor was the furious screams of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

A year went by and it became clear that Harry Potter, son of James and Lily, would have to die if Voldemort was to live. Each day the mirror grew more and more certain that this boy would grow into a powerful and well-loved wizard if left alive. The Potter family was pure of blood and strongly opposed to Voldemort's rule, so it only made sense that their son would be bred to loathe him just as much. It grated his nerved Voldemort's every waking moment to know that there was someone out there who possessed the power to defeat him, and he eventually decided it was best to thwart the boy while he was still without magic.

Late one autumn evening, Tom Riddle went to the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow intent on murdering the child and the entire family if he must. Before the door was cracked to discover who called on them, hexes went crashing through the wood, splintering a path to Voldemort's body. He'd anticipated retaliation, and sent his own curses flying, not caring who they struck. An anguished scream sounded from inside and Voldemort crashed into the foyer, seeing the body of James Potter lying limply against the banister. His wand was still outstretched, as if hoping to whisper off one last curse before he died, but the light was quickly fading from the man's eyes and a simple _Avada Kedavra_ finished him off.

He knew without searching that Lily and the boy would be upstairs. He could tell by the way James had fallen that he was trying to protect the upper floor, so Tom kicked the body aside and strode quickly up, pausing when he saw the room he'd become so acquainted with in his mirror's prophecy. When his gaze landed on Lily, standing with wand raised to protect her son, the moonlight reflecting on her brilliant red hair, Voldemort's heart faltered for a moment. He saw what his servant had seen in this woman, strong, brave and beautiful, and he could see a way to preserve his life and Lily's as well.

Turning on the charm, Riddle lifted his hands into the air, to show he meant the woman no harm. "I have a proposition to offer," he told her, but instead of relaxing, Lily only grew tenser.

"You killed my husband," she hissed.

"Which puts you in the market for a new one," Riddle countered, smiling at her eyes blazed with fury. She was like one of the beloved thoroughbred's his Muggle father would ride through the countryside, just begging to be broken. "I could provide for you, keep you safe, give you everything you desired."

She swallowed thickly and shook her head, her fingers tightening around the wand while the other hand clutched at her son's crib. "I could never love a murderer."

"Who said anything about love?" Riddle asked, smirking delicately. "The alternative of course is death, for both you and your son," he added, his voice betraying every ounce of malice in the words. "Think hard, Lily. Don't you want to watch your son grow up, get married and have children of his own? Wouldn't you like to be a grandmother someday?"

Lily's heart raced in her chest as she looked from her son's cooing face to the doorway, where she knew James was dead and unable to help her or love her ever again. She nodded once, and curtly, and drew her baby into her arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She loved her son more than life itself. She could live as this wizard's prisoner if she got to keep Harry at her side.

"Clever, girl," Tom praised and Apparated his new bride back to Riddle Manor. He didn't think that killing the boy would be necessary any longer. Voldemort could groom him to be his servant, to be completely loyal to him. He would deny the boy magic, and make certain that he never drew upon the power that the mirror predicted would one day belong to him. He would make Harry a Death Eater and make him serve the higher cause that Voldemort pledged his own life to.

And he would enjoy the look on Severus' face when he introduced the man to Lily, his new wife.

* * *

"You are never to do this where Lord Riddle can see you, do I make myself clear?" Lily warned, her eyes narrowed.

Harry nodded solemnly, knowing his mother would not tease him with such things. He could tell that Riddle was a bad man; he just _felt_ it. It didn't matter that his stepfather was always civil, and rarely laid a hand on him, something evil just seemed to emanate from his very pores. His mother had long ago forbid him from asking what happened to his real father, fearing that the question would anger Harry's new father, but Tom Riddle was the only father Harry knew, even if he was a scary man.

"I understand, Mum," Harry replied dutifully as he gripped the wand his mother had given him. They had been practicing in her private quarters ever since Harry had turned eleven. Now, at thirteen, Harry was easily performing spells that his mother had told him were sixth year material. They trained for an hour, Lily showing Harry a spell or technique and Harry imitating it, until Lily grew quiet and still.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered, pulling the wand from Harry's hand and shoving him into a chair by her fireplace. Harry hadn't heard anything, but he knew better than to question his mother. Her green eyes glowed with fear as she put a needle and thread into Harry's hands along with a piece of fabric he'd seen her working with. Harry knew what she meant, and he began working the needle in and out of the cloth. Sure enough, moments later the door opened and Riddle came in, glancing around the room with paranoid eyes. "What's the matter, Tom?" Lily asked and the man simply blew air through his nostrils in response.

He paced the room, holding out his fingers as if he could manipulate the air, and then he muttered something about a mirror and 'still no change' before turning to face Harry directly. "What are you knitting, boy?" he asked.

"It's embroidery," Harry corrected shyly and held out the dark green cloth with lighter green leaves worked into its surface.

"How very, girlishly Slytherin of you," he mocked at last, his tone scathing and harsh. "You'll make a proper wife one day."

"Slytherin?" Harry asked curiously, because he knew he should not recognize the name. His mother often told him about her school days at Hogwarts instead of telling him bedtime stories, but his stepfather was not allowed to know. If permitted to wear color in his robes, it was only green and silver, which his mother had told him were the House's signature colors. He's been severely punished the only time he'd asked to wear red robes to one of the many galas his stepfather threw.

"It doesn't matter," he huffed at Harry and then turned to his wife. "This isn't suitable training for a boy his age, Lily."

"Would you have him practicing fencing, Tom?" she asked, and to anyone else she would seem pleasant, but Harry noticed the creases at the corners of her eyes that indicated bitterness.

Riddle narrowed his eyes and Harry saw his hand twitch. He knew then that when his mother showed up to breakfast with the faint outlines of bruises on her face, that it was his stepfather who had put them there. Rage boiled through him at that knowledge, hate and fury, and only his mother's stern glance kept Harry in his chair.

"I'll discuss this with you later," he promised, in that way that sounded more like a threat. To her credit, Lily didn't flinch until Riddle turned to leave the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she sagged in her chair and a silent sob wracked through her body.

"Mum?" Harry asked quietly, and it seemed she'd only just remembered Harry was there. She straightened and put on a brave face, full of false smiling and courage and looked her son sharply in the eye and pulled him close.

"There will come a day when you have the skill and opportunity to kill that man, Harry," she whispered quietly, yet firmly. "When that time comes, I want you to defeat him. Do you hear me?"

Harry's eyes widened as he took in his mother's words. "You want me to…murder…my stepfather?" he asked, unsure how she could request such a thing, even though he'd been eager to hurt the man just a moment before when he'd learned of the abuse forced upon her.

"Just as he murdered your real father," she breathed, as if she was afraid to utter the words aloud.

"My father," Harry repeated, not a question, because he knew, just as certainly as he knew his name, that she was telling him the truth. The man the house-elves called Lord Voldemort had killed his father, stolen him away from Harry, and one day he would probably try the same with Harry's mother. But Harry wouldn't let him. He would train and he would learn and he would become powerful enough to kill this man who had broken his family.

That night, when Harry wrote in his journal, the words 'I will kill Tom Riddle,' poured from the tip of the quill as if it had always been made to write that very sentence. And his hand didn't shake at all.

* * *

Voldemort was nervous.

Today was the day his stepson turned seventeen, the day he came of age, and the day his entire life would change if he didn't do something swift and thorough. The mirror had been predicting Potter's seventeenth year as the one in which he defeated Tom Riddle for good, but Riddle still didn't understand how it could be possible. He'd forbidden use of magic around the boy, even the house-elves had to do everything the Muggle way when in Harry's presence. He didn't even think the boy knew what magic was.

Potter was a quiet boy, seemingly meek and shy. He was always knitting with his mother or picking flowers in the garden or writing in that silly diary of his – trite poems about girlish things no doubt. He didn't know where he'd gone wrong, but he decided to check with the mirror one final time before he put anything into action.

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who is the most powerful wizard of all?"

"Potter might not have what you do in credentials, but what he lacks there he makes up with potential," the mirror answered in its silky voice.

Voldemort scowled at the glass, as if that would change its answer, but it didn't matter. This would end once and for all today. He snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared, prostrating deeply.

"Fetch me my wife," he ordered and the house-elf was gone with a pop.

Lily came in a few moments later, joy written over her face. "I was hoping to speak to you this morning, Tom," she began. "I wondered what we might do for Harry's birthday today."

She waited to hear what he would allow, but Riddle merely sneered. "I want you to take him out into the woods and cut out his heart."

Lily blinked, her eyelids fluttering in confusion at his words. "You…what?" she gasped, faltering a step backwards.

"He's to die today, and you'll bring his heart back to me," he repeated. "If you fail in this, I will have you strung up and tortured in the dungeons."

"Do with me what you will, but I cannot kill my own son!" she shouted, backing up toward the door. Her escape was thwarted, however, when she faltered on a loose stone and nearly lost her balance. In that moment, Voldemort slipped around intercepted her, grabbing her wrist and twisted her around to face him once more.

"You will do this, because then you can control how he dies. Do it sweetly, with poison or swiftly with a curse," he suggested. "If you leave it to me, the boy will suffer and beg for death before I give it to him."

Lily balked and bile rose in her throat until she thought she might choke on it. "I understand," she said at last, and he let her go. She knew Riddle meant what he said; she knew that his bloodlust wouldn't be sated until Harry's screams reverberated through his ears.

"Consider this mercy my final birthday present to him," Voldemort added, as if he were giving a tender endearment.

"Mercy?" Lily asked, shifting into the stoic mask she usually used with her husband.

"Don't you consider it merciful that I allow him to die by your hand and not mine?" he asked and she nodded and bowed, knowing better than to argue. "Do it now," he ordered and she left without another word.

* * *

Harry could tell that something was bothering his mother. She'd been practically shaking the entire way through the woods while they searched for the best place for Harry's birthday picnic. Whenever he pointed out a particularly sunny glade, she would shake her head and continue to trudge through the underbrush as if she was trying to keep off of the trails.

"Mother," Harry demanded at last. "You've found fault with the last dozen picnic areas. Tell me what drives us so deep into the forest. Is it him?"

Harry knew his mother would know to whom he was referring, and it was clear that she did when a sigh escaped her lips. They stopped, on a little ridge overlooking a stream and Harry finally saw that she was crying.

"I'm so sorry, mum!" he cried, pulling her into his arms. "I didn't mean to shout at you."

Her sobs turned into soft, sad chuckles and she pulled back to look over her son thoroughly. Harry was taller than she was now, and he reminded her so much of James. "You have such a kind soul, Harry, despite everything he's done to change that. Promise me that you won't ever let go of it, Harry. Promise me," she whispered and a pit of dread settled into Harry's stomach.

"Mother, this sounds an awful lot like goodbye," he observed.

"That's because it is," she confirmed. "He's sent me out to kill you, Harry. Merlin knows I could never harm a hair on your precious head, but he'll kill you himself if I come back with you. I need you to stay away from Riddle Manor, Harry. Follow this stream east until it empties into a sparkling pool. There you will see a cottage called the Burrow. There is a kind family who lives there who will take you in until you can make your own way."

"Mother," Harry replied, slightly panicked. He couldn't imagine not being able to see her every day, much less, never again. "Come with me."

"I can't, sweetheart. If I don't go back, he'll know I didn't do it and he'll come after you. I can't let him hurt you, Harry," she replied, steeling herself against his protests. "Follow the stream," she repeated. "The Weasleys will be happy to see you. I made the arrangements years ago and they'll know you on sight. I'll come for you as soon as I can," she promised and then leaned up to press a loving kiss to Harry's forehead. "Now go," she ordered.

No amount of arguing would sway his mother's mind, so eventually Harry was forced to obey, even though he was terrified that Lily had to go back to the Manor alone. He wanted to be there to protect her, to keep her company, but he could understand her logic and he followed the stream as she'd insisted, turning back to wave at her until he could no longer see where his mother stood.

Lily took a deep breath and quelled her rising sobs. She knew this was the only way to protect her precious son, the only answer to how he could go on growing and living his life. Her entire life had belonged to Harry, and she was happy to go on sacrificing if it made his life better.

* * *

Tom paced the floor in the foyer, waiting for his wife to return, wringing his hands in eagerness at what token she'd brought him of her sacrifice to her Lord and husband. When the door opened and he saw Lily's hands empty, he knew right away that she'd betrayed him. It made no difference how confident her face was set, or how purposeful her stride. It was clear to Voldemort that she hadn't completed the deed he had set upon her head.

"It is done," she whispered calmly and made to move past him. With swift and precise movements, Riddle cut her off, twining his long fingers into his wife's hair. It didn't hurt, not at first, but as he stared down at her, his eyes practically glowing with mistrust, the grip grew increasingly painful until Lily dropped to her knees and whimpered in anguish.

"Where is my token, Lily? Where is the proof that you remain loyal to me?" he hissed.

"I couldn't cut into him, my Lord," she sobbed. "When the light flew out of his eyes I couldn't bear to look upon him, let alone slice his flesh with cool steel. He was my son!"

Voldemort straightened, pulling Lily to her feet by her long, red mane and began to drag her down the corridor toward his private chambers. He tossed her to the floor in front of the mirror, making her face it as he spoke the words that would reveal her as traitorous or true. "Mirror, Mirror on the wall," he spoke, the familiar words flowing like silk from his throat. "Show me Harry Potter's fall?"

The mirror didn't reply in its usual rhyming tone, but instead shimmered to reveal the boy in the woods picking flowers. Voldemort seethed as he watched Harry bring them into a small cottage and place them in a crooked ceramic vase in the center of a long table with eight wooden chairs. "Where did you take him?" Tom asked after the image began to fade and reflect back the terrified face of his bride.

Those frightened emerald eyes looked defiant in the next moment and she pressed her lips into a thin line before shaking her head roughly. "I'll never tell you," she snarled as she rose and went for her wand. "I won't let you murder my boy!"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and the back of his hand crashed into Lily's jaw, sending her and her wand clattering to the cold, stone floor. She gasped and clutched her face where he'd hit her, but she had no time to process the offence before she looked up to see blinding green light careening toward her chest.

The last word on her lips was 'Harry', before her breath was spent and the life had drained from her body.

"Such a pity," Voldemort murmured before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, demanding the house-elves dispose of Lily's body in the woods. He had a lot of work to do and very little time to accomplish it. Harry Potter was now of age and no longer under Riddle's control. He was out there somewhere, and Voldemort had to find out where his disloyal wife had hidden him away. The mirror still predicted Potter would be the cause of his death and Riddle couldn't allow that to happen.

Harry Potter had to die.

* * *

The cottage his mother had mentioned turned out to be a tall, crooked house in the middle of a small glade filled with high grass and wildflowers. The mother, Molly Weasley, had pulled Harry into a bone-shattering hug the moment he showed up on their doorstep. As his mother had told him, they had been expecting him to simply materialize in their glade one day and had been warned of the evil wizard who might try to pursue him. Harry didn't know why he warranted so much attention from his stepfather, but he remained constantly vigilant all the same.

There were seven Weasleys living in the Burrow, Molly and Arthur, their twin son's, Fred and George, an older boy named Percy, a boy Harry's age named Ron and one young girl named Ginny. Harry had taken to them at once, and felt thoroughly welcomed in their home. He studied them, not ever having witnessed the way a magical household worked, and found that they each had odd little quirks that endeared them to Harry.

The father for instance, was always puttering around the house, doctoring magical items to mix them with mundane Muggle toys or fixtures he'd come across. Fred and George were mischief-makers, constantly getting into trouble with the sweets and pranks they invented. In fact, the entire first week Harry was there, Fred wasn't able to speak a word because he was too busy sneezing his head off after testing out a new Fluberry candy they'd been working on secretly in their room and George had switched his sleep schedule so that he could work on some of the more dangerous inventions while Molly was asleep and couldn't lecture him. Harry only saw him as he went up to Ron's room for bed, because the boy slept most of the day so he could be up all night.

The only person who clearly didn't like Harry being there was Percy, who often grumbled under his breath about the safety hazards of having someone beneath their roof that Lord Voldemort wanted dead . Harry tried to ignore him, but he often had nightmares about his stepfather coming to the Burrow and slaughtering his new family because he'd been seeking refuge there. He vowed to find work and move on as soon as he could so as not to endanger the kind family any more than he must.

For a while, he thought that Ginny disliked him as well. She was always hiding her face when he walked into the room, or finding a reason to excuse herself. But it was Ron who explained that she acted that way because she _did_ like him, which still baffled Harry completely. He didn't think he'd ever understand girls and he didn't know what he could do to get her to relax, so he simply left her alone.

"I think we should take a trip to Diagon Alley today to pick up some supplies," Molly mentioned one morning at breakfast as she levitated crispy bacon to each of their plates. She smiled brightly down at Harry and ruffled his hair. "And you need to pick out a wand of your own, Harry."

He'd been using his Mother's wand at Riddle Manor because she was afraid her husband would find out if Harry had a wand of his own. He grinned back at her, excited to think of being able to choose a wand that suited him and nodded eagerly. "I'd love to come along."

They set out after breakfast, and Ron showed him all that there was to see of Diagon Alley while the rest split up to fetch the things they were after. They picked out Harry's wand, though Ron had tried a few also that had backfired on him, earning a laugh from his new friend, and then they went down to the robe shop. Harry had never had a set of real wizard's robes before, and wondered if he had enough Galleons left over to purchase a set.

"If you want to try something on, I can meet you over by the sweet shop when you're done," Ron offered. "Madam Malkin's isn't too expensive, so you'll probably find something you can afford," he added, trying to assuage Harry's fears. Lily had given him a pouch of coins when she sent him off, but Harry didn't know how long he would need to make it last, so he didn't want to squander it frivolously.

Eventually he agreed, and waved Ron off as he went into the dim robe shop. There was a little old woman at the counter, and her eyes lit up when she spied Harry come through the door. "What can I do for you, lad?" she asked, bustling over to Harry's side with a glistening tape measure. It started working, unraveling and hovering to capture his size, as she guided him through the shop, pointing out fabric colors and trim options. "I think for you, something like this would be perfect."

Harry gawked at the deep burgundy robes the woman held in her hand. They looked to be made of the finest silk Harry had ever seen, and on the breast was a roaring, golden lion. There were laces in the front, back and on each side that would make the top of the garment more fitted while the bottom would billow and flow. They were beautiful, but they looked far too costly for Harry's meager budget.

"They are stunning, Madam, but I'm afraid there is no way I could afford those," he whispered, his tone reverent as he gazed at the fine robes.

"Perhaps you could just try them on, and I can get Madam Malkin to work out a special price for you," the witch replied with a toothsome grin.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed with a slight flush. "I'd assumed that you were Madam Malkin," he admitted.

The woman kept grinning, as if it were impossible to stop and shook her head. "I'm new here, actually. Why not let me get some practice with by fitting you in this robe," she coaxed.

"Well," Harry mused, "I suppose I could try them on if it would give you practice. I'm just not sure I'll be able to afford them and I don't want to waste your time."

"Aren't you a kind boy," the clerk replied. "You must be well-loved by many."

Harry pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't know many people actually."

"Pity," the woman replied as she slipped the rich fabric over Harry's shoulders and began to lace up the front, pulling it tightly. When she'd finished with the sides, the garment felt snug, but he'd never worn robes like these before, so he didn't know if that was normal or not. It wasn't until the woman moved to the back and began pulling the lacing tighter and tighter that Harry began to suspect something was wrong.

"Miss," he gasped out, finding it increasingly hard to breathe. "I think that might be too tight."

"Pardon?" she asked. "Speak up, boy, I can't hear you."

Harry tried to repeat himself, but he didn't have air enough to do so. He clutched at his chest, trying to rip at the bindings in the front, but he found himself quite immobile and staring into the angry eyes of his stepfather. "Now, now, Harry," he quipped, using the same voice he'd been using for the little old woman. "You mustn't squirm in robes as fine as these. You might break the lacing."

Harry fell to his knees, unable to shout or scream or even move. His world was growing black and fuzzy at the edges until all he could see was Voldemort's face looking down at him with a victorious smile. His cackling laughter filled his subconscious, but then soon – nothing.

Author's Note: As with most of the faerie tales, it was important to me to keep elements of the original, as well as intermingle some of the key elements you all know from the Disney classic. I know I said I wasn't going to do another Disney tale so soon, but I can't help what the muse chooses to throw at me. On the bright side, I have Rapunzel, Princess and the Pea and Goldilocks up next.


	11. Snow White: Part 2

Author's Note: Many thanks to Deb and Shannon for their beta work on this chapter and thanks to all who have reviewed the story so far.

Snow White Part 2

With Harry Potter finally gone, Tom Riddle thought that he needed to rebuild what he'd recently lost. A Lord needed a Lady, and he figured it was high time for him to take a new bride. At first, no one appealed to him. His tastes were rather ambiguous, but he knew that he wanted someone that was the polar opposite of Lily Potter. She'd been strong willed to the point of being nearly belligerent. This time, he wanted a wife who knew the importance of obedience. Lily had been a Muggle-born witch, something that had always made his skin crawl, so, this time he wanted a pureblood witch with a prestigious family tree.

His expectations were high, and he didn't think he would find someone as soon as he did, nor did he think that someone would be the wife of his most loyal Death Eater.

He didn't make a habit of socializing with his lackeys; therefore, he had never looked upon the magnificent beauty of Narcissa Malfoy until she came to Riddle Manor to fetch an important document for her husband. Her lovely blonde hair and smooth, pale skin instantly enchanted Voldemort. More importantly, he admired the quiet voice with which she addressed him and the way she averted her gaze when she curtseyed, showing that she knew proper etiquette. Lily had been bold and brash, but this woman was pliable and would easily bend to his will.

That same evening, Voldemort had Lucius murdered in his bed, and Narcissa and her son brought to Riddle Manor. Unlike Lily, who had been petty and angry over her husband's death, Narcissa seemed to take the news in stride, never showing any hesitation in adapting her role from Lucius' wife to Voldemort's. Her son, Draco, was another story.

Where Harry had been a bright and happy boy, Draco was dark, almost brooding in the way he carried himself through the halls. Voldemort suspected that he wasn't taking his father's death in stride the way his mother had, and he grew suspicious of the boy's intentions. After observing him for a short time, he noticed that Draco was very strong in the area of potions, and began to grow paranoid of everything he was given to eat or drink. It was ridiculous for a Lord to have to live that way within his own home, so he summoned his next loyal Death Eater, Severus, to monitor the boy and ensure he wasn't brewing anything unseemly.

He didn't need another threat to his life wandering around his home. After all, he'd just gotten rid of the first.

* * *

Draco tried to keep his animosity for the Lord Voldemort well hidden, as his mother had quietly instructed, but he didn't think he was doing a very good job of it. Still, it did amuse him to watch Voldemort test every goblet that neared his lips and every piece of meat placed on his plate. For Voldemort to think he had to be wary of a wizard who was barely of legal age made Draco wonder if the man had weaknesses he was unaware of.

Sure, he was advanced in potion making, but he hadn't the skill to trick a man as powerful as Voldemort, or else he would have done so already. Draco's father hadn't been a kind man, or even a fair man, but he'd been wise and powerful and he certainly hadn't deserved to die in his bedchamber like a coward.

He found comfort in the Potions Master assigned to spy on him, however. Severus had assured him that Voldemort had stolen from many people, and not just trinkets either. He'd stolen money, yes, but what Voldemort seemed to covet most was power. Voldemort would kill anyone who stood in the way of it, but he wasn't discriminating. Tom Riddle, the man, would just as easily murder a young boy like himself as he would a loyal servant. He cared not.

Instead of curbing Draco's skill, as he was no doubt instructed to do, Severus encouraged Draco with his talent. He taught Draco the right way to use every instrument, the proper method for stirring and by the time Draco would leave the potions lab every evening, he'd know more than when he'd entered that same morning. But it wasn't until Draco's second week at Riddle Manor that Draco found his true relief.

When straightening his bed linens one morning, Draco's hand had slipped and crashed into the massive oak headboard. He cursed his own clumsiness and tried to shake off the minor pangs that stole through the injured appendage, but his pain was soon ignored completely when his eyes fell on a small door. His flailing movement and bump had opened up a little slot in the headboard that seemed to be the perfect hiding place. Draco reached his hand inside the narrow space and retrieved a tome.

His initial thought was to cast it aside, for what use could he possibly have for a dusty old book, but he quickly realized it was far more important than that. It was the journal of the room's previous occupant.

After skimming a few short entries, Draco sent word to Severus that he wouldn't make it to their lesson that day. He was too enthralled by what he'd found. Making himself comfortable, Draco settled in and read the entire journal in one day, marveling at how a boy could have grown up here of all places and briefly wondered where he was now. There were no dates in the journal, and it was quite obvious that Voldemort was powerful enough to counter the effects of time, so this boy could be twice his age by now for all Draco knew. More likely, however, was that the boy who wrote this journal was now dead, a though Draco was curious to learn made his heart ache.

Still, it was uncanny how similar this boy's story was to his very own. This boy, this Harry, had been captured and taken here when his own father had been murdered and his mother made into his bride. Harry had hidden the fact that he was an increasingly powerful wizard, seemingly successfully. Although, since the boy clearly no longer resided in Riddle Manor, perhaps his powers had been discovered after all.

Most interesting was when the boy spoke of his hatred of Lord Voldemort, and the vendetta he harbored against the monster that ruined his family. Draco felt a camaraderie with this mystery man, regardless of the fact that they had never and would never meet. He imagined that the two of them together would have been able to vanquish Lord Voldemort, but now he would never know.

That night, Draco carefully concealed the diary where he'd found it and went to sleep, his first sound slumber since he'd moved to Riddle Manor. Throughout the following weeks, Draco felt increasingly smug. His confidence bolstered by Harry's entries, as he reread them every night, and every day he would practice with Severus to perfect his craft. He had little doubt that when his time came, Draco would succeed in doing what Harry hadn't been able to, and it would be a victory for them both.

* * *

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the most powerful of them all?" Voldemort asked before patiently waiting his mirror's response.

With the arrangements to murder Lucius Malfoy, the proceeding nuptials and keeping his eye on the young Draco, Voldemort had little to no time to himself. Certainly not enough time to sneak away to his private chambers and consult his magic mirror. He was eagerly waiting to hear his name in the bell-like voice of his reflection. It had been seventeen years since he'd heard the right answer to his question, seventeen years that he'd heard Harry Potter's name instead.

But now that Potter was out of the way, he could finally take his rightful place again.

"Your magic, Lord, is more powerful than most, but Harry Potter still has the right to boast."

"What?!" Voldemort shouted. "That's impossible! I killed that insipid boy with my own two hands!"

The mirror's voice seemed to sigh with annoyance but quickly shimmered to reflect an image of Harry laughing merrily with the lively ginger clan. "The Weasleys, I should have known!" Voldemort growled. "Their sheer numbers alone should have clued me in to the fact that they were the ones helping Lily's brat."

With power thrumming down to his very fingertips, Voldemort snarled his fury into the air and launched himself from the room, set on killing that infernal boy once and for all.

* * *

Harry whistled a happy tune as he cast several dusting charms around the Burrow. The Weasleys were all away at Diagon Alley, and after what had occurred on the last trip, Harry had opted to remain home and help straighten the place up. Molly was a wonder with the usual household charms, but she was a busy woman with lots of family to pick up after, so Harry liked to do his part when he could.

A sharp knock at the door brought him out of his reverie, however, and Harry bustled over to answer it. Outside was a smarmy looking man, obviously a door-to-door salesman judging by the large satchel slung over his shoulder and the case he toted. "Hiya, friend!" the man greeted, offering Harry a beaming smile filled with perfect teeth. "I 'ave here an offer ya can't refuse!"

"Um, I don't really have any coin on me, Sir. Sorry. Best of luck to you though," Harry replied and started to shut the door. The salesman was having no part in being quickly rejected, however, and swiftly placed his booted foot in the jam.

"I'm happy to take a trade," he suggested and Harry had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"I'm really not interested," he started, but the man's spiel cut him off.

"I 'ave here some of the finest combs in all of Europe, made from hand painted bone, guaranteed to tame even a wild nest of hair like your own!" he assured in a too-loud voice.

Harry again tried to stop him, but the man had already pulled out a sapphire blue comb and began to assault Harry's ebony locks with it. Harry backed up and tried to put himself out of the salesman's reach, but the man was quicker on his feet than he looked.

"Ouch!" Harry cried out when the sharp tongs of the comb nicked his scalp. He pressed a finger to the spot and came away with blood. "You cut me!"

"Terribly sorry, Sir. Perhaps if you hadn't squirmed so much," the man replied, but Harry's vision was already starting to blur, and the salesman soon grew out of focus. "I believe I forgot to mention that they are tipped in poison as well. You only have a few moments left to live. Any last words, Potter?"

The glamour Voldemort had cast was quickly waved away, leaving Harry to stare blurrily into the face of his nemesis. "Riddle," he gasped out. His throat was constricting, leaving little room to breathe, let alone speak. His extremities started to tingle and burn, weakening until he no longer had the strength to stand. He could hardly believe that he was going to die at the hands of this monster, this man who had murdered his father and ruined his life.

"Yes, your mother used to call me that, back before I killed her," the man cackled, and Harry launched himself forward, clawing at the man with what little strength he had left. Fingernails hooked into Voldemort's cheek and he sliced at the man furiously, but despite the injury, Voldemort quickly dodged a second attack with a series of shouted curses.

Harry's breath was coming in ragged gasps and he collapsed back to the floor, unable to feel his legs any longer. "Rot!" Harry seethed with his dying breath. "I hope you rot."

Voldemort kicked him harshly in the stomach, sending the last of Harry's air out in one, violent whoosh. His fingers scrambled at the wood planks below him, but he couldn't see anything or anyone that could help him now.

* * *

Voldemort stared down at the prone form of his enemy for a long time. He'd checked the boy's vitals himself several times and Harry Potter was finally dead. Narrowing his gaze, Voldemort moved to heft the boy over his shoulder. He planned to Apparate him back to Riddle Manor and have him dissected and buried in different corners of the grounds, just to make sure he was good and dead this time.

Unfortunately, a noise from the fireplace cut his mission short. The Weasleys were returning from their trip and Voldemort was ill prepared to deal with them at the moment. Seven against one on the Weasleys home turf weren't the best odds even for a wizard as powerful as he was. He quickly vanished, Apparating back to the manor alone and took a moment to relish in his victory.

The poison he'd used was sure to leave the Weasley family at a loss. He'd had Snape and Draco brew it especially for the task, though he'd been careful not to tell them whom they were helping to kill. He didn't think Snape would appreciate having a hand in the death of the son of his beloved Lily.

Finally, the task was done and Voldemort could rest.

* * *

Molly Weasley worried at her apron, worsening the already frayed edges as she watched the local healer, Madam Pomfrey, cast spell after spell over the prone Harry Potter. They'd come home from their errand to find Harry on the ground, no breath in his body, the same as Ron had found him in the robe shop a few weeks before.

It was clear then that Lily Potter hadn't been the least bit paranoid when she'd come to them more than a decade ago. Someone was out to kill Harry, and it looked as if they might have succeeded this time. She cursed herself for having ever left the boy alone. She could have gone without lemongrass for the roast that night or just sent one of the boys after it.

When the plump, old healer turned around, she looked grim and Molly nearly choked on a sob right then. "He's been poisoned," she announced, "but thankfully it looks as though these effects will wear off."

"Wear off?" Ron asked from the doorway. "He's dead!"

Molly shushed him with a violent hiss and turned back to Pomfrey. "He'll get better?"

"The symptoms only mimic death. Whoever created this poison was clever indeed. I wonder if the attacker even knows that Harry's only sleeping very deeply?" she mused aloud.

"Doubtful," Molly chimed, her spirits suddenly brightened. "When can we expect him to wake?"

"A day or so," Madam Pomfrey replied. "Although, the poison was obviously experimental, so it might be only hours, or it might be longer. Fetch me if he's not awake by Wednesday."

Molly nodded, thinking three days was too long, but she wasn't going to argue with the healer. "Is there anything we can do in the meantime?"

"Just make sure someone is with him at all times. When he wakes up, he might feel very disoriented and he'll need to see a friendly face. He'll likely be very hungry and thirsty too, but don't push it. He can't eat a big meal after being asleep for so long without getting ill," she explained.

Molly took notes and bid the healer farewell, thanking her for her work with one of Molly's famous treacle tarts. She set to work immediately devising a schedule for the children and who would sit with Harry when. All but Percy was more than happy to help.

* * *

"He killed her."

Percy jerked his head up from his book to see Harry's eyes open and shining with unshed tears. He rushed to the boy's side, offering a glass of water, which Harry deftly ignored. "He killed her," Harry repeated and Percy glared at him with narrowed eyes.

"What are you on about? Who killed whom?" he prodded.

"My mother," Harry sobbed, covering his face with his hands. "Voldemort killed my mother."

A painful sting ran through Percy and he put a tentative hand on Potter's shoulder. As angry as he got with his mother and her overprotective ways, he would gladly punish anyone who tried to hurt her. "I'm sorry, Mate," he said softly, and to his credit, he didn't even wince when Harry threw his arms around his shoulders and sobbed even harder.

Percy hesitantly patted the man on the back, not sure what to do in a situation like this one. Usually it was Ginny or Molly who bore the brunt of upset boys, but Percy found himself rather fond of feeling needed for a change. "It'll be alright," he assured, changing his patting motions to smooth circles. "I promise that you'll get a chance to make things right someday."

Harry nodded against his shoulder before pulling back enough that Percy could see his tear streaked face. "I'll kill him," Harry promised. "I'll kill him for what he did to her."

"No one here would stop you, Harry," Percy confirmed, before coaxing the man to drink from the glass of water he still held.

* * *

Carefully avoiding his new stepfather, Draco mounted the stairs leading down to the Potions laboratory two at a time. He'd already been swatted at when Draco had the gall to ask about the cut on Voldemort's face. He'd refused to answer and sent Draco into Severus' care, no doubt assuming there would be some punishment in his near future.

Little did Voldemort realize, Draco was happy to have the assistance of the wise Potions Master. Without him, he would have never known what to brew when Voldemort had come asking for a deadly poison. Draco didn't want to be the cause of some stranger's death, but he hadn't wanted to cut his own life short by refusing either. With Severus' help, Draco created an elixir of Nod, a potion so powerful that even under heavy scrutiny, the poisoned soul would seem dead. It would take several days to wear off, so Draco was happy to have bought some time to continue his snooping of Riddle Manor and perusing of Harry's journal.

Just thinking about the hidden diary thrilled him to the core. He only wished that this boy were still in the manor. Harry seemed so brave, so clever and even amusing as he composed each entry with a wicked tongue. It was one of the final entries, dated on the boy's seventeenth birthday, that hinted to the area of the Manor that Draco should next explore.

Harry spoke of a chamber in the west wing. He said the door was made of ebony wood and it had more bolts and locks to discourage intruders than any other door in the manor, so he'd been sure something important could be found in that room. The west wing was off limits to Draco entirely, but he wasn't going to let something as petty as 'rules' stop him.

Draco chuckled to himself as he realized Harry's fiery spirit was already rubbing off on him. Perhaps the boy still roamed the corridors as a ghost, and that's why Draco felt so connected to him, or perhaps it was something more. Draco felt as though he'd met his kindred in the ink of those pages, as if there was someone made for him alone, someone that would counter his every flaw and balance him completely. Alas, he tried not to dwell on it, or else he would feel only loss at the fact that Harry was merely accessible in his dreams.

* * *

A dark corridor loomed ahead, and Draco couldn't help but think this was the place Harry had described in his journal. And sure enough, to his right at the end of the hall was an ominous black door, covered with latches and keyholes. Draco concentrated and cast every spell he knew on the door, waiting patiently between each to judge what the effect would be.

Eventually his perseverance paid off, and a few minutes later the door gave a mighty clank and Draco was able to heave it open.

Slipping quietly inside, Draco studied the room carefully. It was sparsely decorated with only a chair, a dusty old wardrobe and a tall, gilded mirror. Draco couldn't see anything that seemed dangerous or suspicious. His heart gave a violent lurch as he heard sounds from the other side of the door. Draco scrambled inside the wardrobe and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself before peering out the cracks to see who had entered.

Lord Voldemort strode purposefully into the room - seemingly made of dark, billowing robes and scarily grinning lips. He stopped in front of the mirror and let his hand roam over the gold frame. "Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the most powerful of them all?" he whispered and Draco shuddered at the evil lilt to the man's voice.

"Thrice now you've tried to see him killed, but Harry Potter is the stronger willed."

A murderous snarl echoed through the room and Draco would have found himself cowering at the sound if not for the name the mirror recited. Harry Potter. Draco held his breath and watched as Voldemort threw a small tantrum, nearly shattering the mirror in the process.

"Show me," he growled at last, and the mirror twinkled and shifted, showing a determined man, Draco's age almost exactly. He was in a glade, dueling fiercely with a tall, gangly ginger-headed boy. Draco thought they were fighting at first, but after a few moments, the redhead held up his hand and clutched an arm to his gut.

"_That's enough for today, Harry," the boy called, completely winded. _

"_If you're done, see if Fred or George is available," the dark haired man, presumably Harry, replied. _

"_Not likely after the walloping you gave them both yesterday. I swear, Harry, you get more and more powerful each day," Ron praised, making the boy blush._

Draco thought that seeing Harry flush might have been the single most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed and all he wanted to do was make him do it again. He could hardly believe that this handsome, wild, powerful wizard was the same who wrote the journal entries Draco adored so much. And more than that, the revelation that Harry truly existed, living flesh and blood that he could see, touch and taste, well that nearly made him cry out with joy from his hiding place.

He had to meet this Harry Potter, he had to get to know the man behind the diary he'd been so obsessed with, and he had to warn him that Lord Voldemort was out for blood. He waited silently until Voldemort was done ranting before slipping off to his room.

Once there, he gathered everything he thought he might need and stole a broom from Voldemort's stables. The man would be furious, but Draco wouldn't be around to catch his wrath.

He was off to meet the love of his life.

* * *

Draco flew through the forest as fast as his broom would take him. The trouble was, he had no idea where the cottage was that he'd seen in the background of Voldemort's mirror. He didn't know this land well enough and he hadn't seen much of the area around Harry in the mirror's reflection, his focus had been all for the raven-haired man wielding his wand as if he owned the world. Power, humility, wit, charm and beauty – Draco knew he'd found the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with. All the ruddy princesses his mother had been trying to force down his throat all paled in comparison to Harry Potter.

Still, he remembered a stream, or river or lake or something in the background, and he thought that was just as good a marker as any. So, the moment he came across a riverbank, Draco decided to follow it and see where it led. The only problem was, he must have gone the wrong direction. He soon came across a steep cliff and there was no possible way that there could be a cottage anywhere near. The land was too treacherous for the wide meadow and stream he'd seen in the magic mirror.

Having lost precious time, Draco spurred himself forward at a blistering pace, unwilling to lose out on the future he knew was out there for him. After two solid days of flight, at last, Draco could see the cottage looming in the distance. Plunging forward, Draco flew through the last of the trees and across the glen, leaping off of the broom so quickly that he nearly stumbled and ran, full force, to the front door.

He knocked as loudly as possible, waiting to see his love in person for the first time. He had no idea what he would say, and knew that he would sound like a madman when he tried to explain. But he was determined to press forward and confess to Harry how he felt about him, knowing deep down that Harry would return his feelings. He just had to.

Instead, a petite, flame-haired girl came to the door, her eyes as red as her hair. "Who are you?" she demanded, apparently stronger than she looked.

"I'm here to see Harry," Draco rushed out, trying to peer around the slight girl further into the cottage. All he could glimpse was a gathered crowd of redheads, huddled around something Draco couldn't see.

"You're too late!" she sobbed. "He's dead! There is nothing Pomfrey can do for him this time!"

The girl was easy to shove aside in her grief and Draco pressed forward, trying to see what everyone was staring at. As soon as he caught sight of it, he wished he hadn't. There, lying prone in what looked to be a glass casket was his love, his Harry. Clutched in the man's hand was the remainder of a shiny red apple, perfect teeth marks clearly visible.

Draco was too late. Voldemort had already been there and stolen his love away.

Author's Note: So, many of you were wondering how I would incorporate Draco. How did I do? Oh, and this story will have 4 parts in total, unlike the rest.


	12. Snow White: Part 3

Author's Note: Many thanks to Deb and Shannon, my beta's for this story, and thanks to all who have reviewed so far.

Snow White Part 3

Draco stared at the glass coffin with an empty feeling in his gut. He hadn't even registered the fact that people were gathered and staring at _him_, questions bubbling through their lips unheard by Draco's distracted ears.

How could this be? The Harry Potter he'd read about and seen in Voldemort's mirror was sly and powerful. How could he have succumbed to something as ordinary as a poisoned apple? "Tell me what happened," he demanded, his eyes never leaving the pale form of his true love.

"First you might want to explain who you are," answered the tallest of the ginger clan. Draco assumed he was the patriarch of this ragtag bunch, but he didn't much care.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I flew here from Riddle Manor to warn Harry that he was in danger," he explained.

"Obviously," snorted one of the gingers that looked remarkably similar to the one next to him.

"Couldn't you have gotten here earlier?" the other one shouted before sneezing into his hands.

"Listen here, Sneezy," Draco sniped, offering only a menacing glare. "Do you think I wanted to be late? Harry was meant for me! We were supposed to get married one day!"

"You were engaged?" asked the younger girl with a bashful blush.

"Harry never mentioned that," the older woman added.

Draco winced and turned away from the prying women. He hadn't meant to say that. "No, not exactly."

"You were serious though?" asked the dopey looking one.

"Sort of," Draco muttered.

"Then how come we've never heard of you?" pressed another one rather grumpily.

"Because he doesn't know me!" Draco shouted, frustrated by the abundance of questions barraging his already grief stricken mind.

The gingers all gaped at him, suddenly at a loss for words. "Then what the hell are you doing here?" the grumpy one demanded.

"I came to save him!" Draco repeated. Being bombarded on seven sides was wearing on his nerves.

"And introduce yourself, I suppose," one of the twins murmured unhelpfully.

"As his future husband," the other muttered as the twins sniggered under their breath until their mother swatted them in the back of the head.

"This is no time for jokes, boys," she chastised. "We promised this boy's mother that we would keep him safe and we've failed miserably. Tell me, Draco, what news do you have of Lily Potter? We should tell her what happened."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary." Draco looked away before answering, unable to watch a grown woman so torn. "She was murdered some time ago."

"So, it's true then?" the grumpy one asked, looking forlorn.

"By him?" the father asked, and Draco nodded, knowing full well that the man was referring to Voldemort.

"Shortly before he killed my father and began courting my mother," he added. "That's one of many things Harry and I have in common," Draco whispered, running his nimble fingers along the glass casket, wishing he could touch the man's perfect lips instead. "_Had_ in common," he corrected himself only too late, the words nearly choking in his throat.

"How do you even know what you did and didn't have in common if you never met him," the grumpy one pried, but a look from his mother stilled his tongue.

"It doesn't matter, Percy," the woman whispered. "We lost a dear member of our family today, and we won't be dictating who can and cannot mourn Harry's passing."

"Thank you," Draco whispered, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. He'd been wistfully dreaming about a new life, a life where he and Harry were one and they lived long and happily ever after, but that dream came crashing down around him as he stared down at the raven-haired man. Even in death, Harry's lips were nearly the color of rubies, his skin the color of snow. Draco would have been happy to wake up every morning and look upon that beautiful face.

* * *

Voldemort grinned victoriously as he returned to his manor; still laden with the robes of the old farmer he'd impersonated to fool the Potter brat. He'd hit a stroke of luck to find the boy there all alone again, and he'd decided to act on it.

Potter had been cautious, at first, but Voldemort had soothed his nerves with tales of the produce he was gathering on a farm nearby and assured him that Molly and Arthur would be expecting his delivery.

"The apples are particularly delicious this time of year," he'd told Potter. "You should try one."

He'd grabbed an apple from the top of the bushel and handed it over to the boy, watching and waiting for Harry to take a bite.

"I shouldn't," he'd said, shaking his head. "I've had bad luck accepting things from strangers lately."

Voldemort had chuckled at that, a deep laugh that sounded jolly in the farmer's skin. "Molly told me of your trials. I can't say that I blame you for not trusting a strange farmer like myself. But how's this," he offered, taking the apple back and slicing it in half. "I'll eat from the same fruit. Would that be proof enough that I'm just a harmless old man?"

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with that," Potter had reasoned, beaming up at Voldemort, clearly unaware of who he was talking to. Voldemort smiled back and passed half of the apple back to Potter before raising his own half to his lips and biting into it.

The poison was only in half of the apple, and Voldemort had been very careful which half he kept. In fact, even if some of the poison had leaked into his own half, it would do little more than give him a nasty stomach flu – a small price to pay for being rid of the brat for good. The poison was one of Snape's creations, and Voldemort had been taking small, harmless, doses of it for years, building up a tolerance. He knew how unpopular he was amongst his people, and he took every precaution against villains who might try to steal the Riddle throne.

"Well, how is it then?" Voldemort asked in the farmer's happy baritone.

"It's delicious," Potter had acknowledged. "Very sweet…and there's something else…something." And then Harry's voice faltered and his shoulders began to sag and his knees began to buckle.

It was deliriously sweet watching the light slowly fade from those gemstone eyes before they closed completely and with a finality that still lingered in what was left of Voldemort's heart. In fact, Tom Riddle practically skipped all the way back to his manor.

Now that he was once more surrounded with the comforting stone walls of his fortress, Voldemort strode quickly to his secret chamber, set on reveling in Potter's defeat. The mirror stood in the corner like a cold and distant relative, not speaking until spoken to.

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall," Voldemort chimed, nearly rubbing his palms together in anticipation. "Who is the most powerful of them all?"

"With Harry Potter's last breath lost, you, sire, are the most powerful. But at what cost?" the mirror replied.

Voldemort rolled his eyes and waved at the mirror as if to shoo the object away. "Never mind the cost. It's done. It's finally done!"

The mirror went black and Voldemort left his chambers, a happy little tune whistling on those sinister lips.

* * *

"Wait!" Draco shouted, clambering to keep his hold on the glass coffin. He was splayed across the top of it, gripping the edges with brutal force as the seven gingers tried to carry both he and Harry's coffin out into the yard.

"Draco, dear, you're going to need to let go," the woman, who he'd just recently learned was named Molly, told him.

"You can't just bury him!" Draco shouted. "It's unseemly."

"What would you suggest we do?" one of the twins asked.

"Use him as a coffee table?" the other put in.

Draco shot them both his sharpest glare but they seemed unfazed. "I just-" he began, but then he could say no more because he felt the glass give a massive heave and crack beneath him. "Bloody hell," he muttered and tried to leap off, but he wasn't in time to escape before the glass gave way and he found himself lying on top of his dead love. He paid no mind to the glistening shards beneath him, slicing into his flesh. All he could think about were the lips that were so very close to his own.

Harry's bottom lip had been cut by the glass, and Draco's eyes were mesmerized by the way the blood rose to the top and blended with Harry's perfect red lips. It made his lips shine as if the boy were still alive and well and only sleeping very deeply.

Rummaging in his robe pocket, Draco produced a thin blue vial. Deftly he dipped his finger into the liquid and rubbed it along the cut, watching with a soft smile as it disappeared. It was in that moment that an idea occurred to him. He tried to concentrate over the bustling noise going on all around him, people trying to pry him off of Harry's limp body and others trying to repair the damaged glass.

He ignored them all and reached for the apple, still clutched in Harry's pale hand. Tentatively he stuck out his tongue and pressed just the tip against the soft cream flesh of the fruit. He tasted it briefly and then spat into the grass, his gray eyes glittering with triumph.

"I know this poison!" he announced, carefully extracting himself from atop the raven-haired boy below him. With a wave of his wand he had the glass replaced as if it had never broken and he was addressing the gathered Weasley clan. "Severus taught me this poison my first week in the manor. It was a favorite of the Dark Lord."

"And this means _what_ exactly?" Percy asked. "That we can carve the cause of death on his tombstone?"

Draco rolled his eyes and decided to address someone intelligent, but his eyes kept shifting from one freckled face to the next and he gave up hope for that and addressed Harry instead. "I think I can cure you," he whispered, splaying his fingers across the broken shards of glass over Harry's heart.

"You can cure death?" squeaked the girl Weasley, Ginny, if he remembered correctly. Girl Weasley was just so much easier to recall.

"He's not dead yet," Draco replied, his breath fogging against the glass. "Nearly, but not quite. He's only ingested a little of the poison, so if I can brew the antidote, I can most likely revive him."

"How likely?" Arthur, the father, asked.

"Does it matter?" Draco turned to face the man, fire in his gaze. "If there is even the smallest of chances, is it not worth trying?"

"It is," Molly agreed. "You lot get Harry back inside," she called to the ginger group, waving them along. They obeyed, as they always seemed to do when Molly gave an order, and soon Harry's casket was being hauled back into the house. "Draco, we'll set you up a place in Charlie's old room. You can brew your potion there. Let Ron know what supplies you need and he'll fetch them for you."

"I will?" Ron asked, looking a bit put out.

Mrs. Weasley didn't answer, she merely leveled a stern gaze on her youngest son and Ron shifted toward Draco, summoning a quill and parchment from the kitchen. Draco smiled and rattled off a few things that would get him started and set to work.

* * *

The faint plopping sounds of his potion bubbling could be heard behind him, but Draco wasn't tending to the antidote right that moment. He had about an hour before it would be ready for another set of three clockwise stirs, and he killed the time sitting next to Harry's coffin. It had been moved into Draco's tight room several days back after Draco insisted he might need Harry close in case he needed to test his work. They'd agreed, but he suspected that Molly knew Draco was lying and merely wanted Harry in his line of sight at all times.

"This has to work," Draco breathed, making little heart shaped smudges across the glass. "I want to meet you, Harry James Potter. I want to hold you and kiss you and love you forever and I can't very well do that if you stay so silent."

There was no answer of course, there never was. Draco could no longer count how many hours he spent sitting on the floor beside Harry's coffin. Sometimes he would just sit there, staring into the placid face of the man he was trying desperately to revive. Occasionally he would read passages from Harry's own journal, explaining how much he loved what Harry had said there, or how he could fully relate to the emotions Harry had illustrated in another spot. But, most of the time, Draco just told Harry about his own life, his dreams of the future, and how badly he hoped to share those dreams with Harry when he woke up.

Draco was only hypothesizing in his experiments and his assessment of Harry's condition. Judging by the bite in the apple and the state Harry was currently in, Draco suspected he would have a few weeks to revive him or else everything he did now would be in vain because Harry would be well and truly dead at the end of a month. The potion would have worked its way to his heart and killed him by then. Draco might not even have a full month, but he was holding to hope that he could finish the antidote in time.

He didn't even want to think about the consequences of failing.

With a sigh, Draco tore himself from Harry's side and back to his potion, eyeing it curiously before he stirred, grinning when it shifted into the proper deep purple he'd anticipated. He wouldn't fail his Harry; there wasn't even a question in his mind now that he would save his sweet prince.

* * *

Draco's absence from Riddle manor did not go overlooked, nor did the stolen broom from Voldemort's stables. Narcissa was in a tizzy over it, wondering where her son could have run off to without even leaving a note. To appease his wife, Voldemort sent out a few of his loyal Death Eaters to seek the boy out, but each day they returned empty handed.

Voldemort would be lying if he said he was even the slightest bit concerned by this. He couldn't care less if the boy ever resurfaced. It was just one more thing he didn't have to worry about now that Harry Potter was out of the way.

Nearly every morning for the first two weeks after his victory, Voldemort checked his mirror, and each morning it said the same. Tom Marvolo Riddle was now the most powerful wizard in the land. He'd grown content in the following days, sure that his place in the world was now solid and he felt no need to keep confirming it with the mirror each day. Shortly after that, he began making new plans to conquer some of the outlying villages now that he no longer had to fear Potter rising up and defeating him.

With a crimson gleam in his eyes, Voldemort decided to start with the small cottages in the forest bordering his manor – namely, the home that had housed Potter when he was a wanted fugitive.

* * *

Sweat covered Draco's brow in a thin sheen as he leaned over the cauldron and added the final ingredient to his antidote. The liquid thinned, smoked and then turned a sallow yellow color. It was perfect, and Draco nearly shouted with glee in his triumph. It had been nearly a month already, and he was just hoping that the cure wasn't too late.

A glance at Harry showed him paler than he was the day before, the red of his lips now blended almost perfectly with the snow-white of his skin. Draco swallowed thickly and refused to think that the boy already looked to have fallen into death's cool embrace.

He dipped a golden vial into the mixture, because glass would be too volatile, and strode over to the coffin's edge. With a muttered spell, Draco vanished the glass and stared down at the closed eyes of his beloved. Long black lashes rested peacefully against Harry's cheeks, and Draco wanted nothing more than to see them flutter open so that he may look into Harry's eyes, which he quickly realized with a start that he didn't even know the color of.

"This will work," he promised himself and Harry simultaneously. "It has to."

With those last whispered words, Draco tipped the vial of liquid into Harry's mouth, gently coaxing it down Harry's dry throat.

Then he waited.

The potion should work fairly quickly as it eliminated the poison coursing through Harry's body, but he allowed time enough for it to work…it had been weeks since Harry had ingested the poison after all. Seconds passed, then minutes and then finally an hour went by and still Draco saw no change in Harry's complexion, or the telltale rise and fall of his chest.

Yet again, it seemed Draco was too late.

* * *

"Malfoy, can I get you anything? We didn't see you at supper?" Ron called as he crept around the corner and into Malfoy's room. What he saw there made his heart stutter to a halt. The blond was crumpled at the base of Harry's uncovered coffin, his back heaving with silent sobs.

Ron's mouth went dry and his hands were clammy as he clasped them into fists. He knew what this meant. He had learned to read Draco's mannerisms over the last few weeks – mostly because he had to. The blond didn't talk much, not to him at least. Ron heard him talking to Harry all the time, reading to him, discussing art, books, philosophy – all as if the man was awake to hear and respond. Ron thought it was a bit peculiar, but part of him, secretly, thought it was sort of sweet. He'd heard somewhere that sometimes people woke up from comas because people like Draco stayed by their side and coaxed them back to life. Deep down, Ron hoped that was what the mysterious blond was doing for their friend.

But seeing the usually stoic Draco Malfoy on his knees, weeping like a child…it made all of the hope in Ron's bones flee like leaves on an autumn night. It didn't bode well, not at all.

"I take it the antidote didn't work," Ron asked meekly. Draco lifted his head for a moment – long enough to stare at Ron with icy gray eyes – and then his chin dropped back to his chest in defeat.

"No," he rasped. "It didn't. I'm all out of ideas. He's gone, Weasley. He's really gone."

Ron swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and nodded. "I'll get the others. They'll want to know."

Draco shooed him from the room with a sigh and turned his attention back to Harry, but all words failed him, and soon he was torn away from the coffin's side when a gaggle of gingers moved into the room. Softly spoken words filled his ears, none of them measuring up to the heartbreak and self-loathing he felt in that moment. He'd let down the one and only person he'd ever made a promise to. The only promise he'd ever wanted to make and keep.

One by one the Weasleys each took their turn at Harry's side, saying goodbye. "I was glad to call you my son, Harry, even for as brief a time as we had with you," Molly whispered, reaching up as if she might pinch his cheeks before letting her hand fall slowly to the side once more. Arthur followed, but he remained quiet, simply squeezing Harry's hand for a long moment before letting go and joining Molly to the side.

George and Fred followed, although Draco still couldn't tell them apart. They commented on how easy Harry had been to get on with, and how they had liked having him around. Before they moved back, they each placed something in Harry's coffin and Draco nearly rushed to the side to see what kind of prank they'd leave to desecrate Harry's burial. What he found were two small bouquets of flowers made from intricately folded and twisted sweet wrappers. Draco winced and moved away, silently chastising himself for having doubted the twins for even a second.

Percy went next, grumbling under his breath about Harry's audacity to just leave them this way, how he hadn't gotten time enough to spend with them while Ginny sniffled beside her brother, tears glistening down her cheeks. "You were a good friend, Harry," Ron said as he stood next to the coffin. "The best. I only wish I had told you that when you could still hear me."

With that, the family silently levitated Harry's casket through the house and out into the forest beyond, and this time Draco didn't stop them. There was nothing left to try, nothing left that could possibly bring Harry back from a brink he had already crossed. All he could do was stare as the Weasley family gathered around and sang Harry into the afterlife.

When they were about to lift the glass lid and seal him in forever, Draco could hardly bear it. "Please!" he shouted. "Please wait just a minute." They all paused, giving Draco sad eyes as they nodded and stepped away. "Could I have just one more minute alone?" he asked meekly, stepping up to the edge. He didn't notice where everyone went, just that they went.

Draco trailed his fingers along the smooth flesh of Harry's arm, wishing it were warm and flexing and wrapped around him. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I failed you, and I'm so sorry," he whispered in a half-sob.

The ebony locks of Harry's wild hair looked so soft that Draco had to reach up and touch them, lacing his fingers through and wondering what all that gorgeous mane would have felt like snuggled against him. "I had such plans for our future together," Draco sighed, letting his fingers brush across Harry's cheeks. What he wouldn't give to see them flush with excitement. "I'm confident we could have been happy together, you and I. I don't even know you and I'm already mad for you, Harry. What am I supposed to do now?"

He wanted desperately for those thick lashes to flutter open and gaze at him with blue…brown…purple eyes – it didn't matter to Draco so long as they were looking at _him_. Boldly, Draco leaned down and placed a kiss on Harry's ruby lips, agonizing that they were somehow even softer than they looked. He was sure his grief-stricken mind was playing tricks on him when those lips began to move beneath his own, until a wet tongue darted out to taste of him and Draco pulled back with a mighty gasp.

Green. Harry's eyes were the most stunning shade of green that Draco had ever looked upon, and they were locked on him. And those lips, they were grinning madly and those cheeks were blushing and even more fantastic to look upon than Draco could have imagined. And he was sitting up. And he looked fine – more than fine judging by the warming in Draco's trousers.

"You were dead," he breathed, still unsure if he was dreaming.

"I think you… fixed me," Harry said in an angelic tone that did nothing to convince Draco that he _wasn't _dreaming.

"Fixed you," Draco repeated lamely.

"Well, I assume that you're the same man who has been watching over me, reading to me from my journal and telling me fantastical stories of our lives together?" he asked, a bemused grin on his face.

"You heard all that, did you? I thought you were…asleep, or dead or something," Draco stammered.

"Did you not mean it then?" Harry asked, already losing the grin that lit his face up so beautifully. Draco rushed forward and grabbed his hand, eager to keep the sweet emotion from fading away from those emerald eyes. Even if it was a dream, Draco didn't care. He would simply fight to stay asleep.

"I meant all of it. Every word," he assured. "It's just a bit…embarrassing. You don't even know me and there I was, gushing like a girl at your bedside."

"Your favorite color is green, and you love the smell of fresh baked bread and even though you tried not to like them, you fell reluctantly in love with the Weasley family," he listed, beaming as he did. "You lived where I did, if only for a moment, and you share a pain I couldn't share with anyone else. You loved me before you even met me, Draco," Harry sighed, his hand squeezing tightly around Draco's. "That's all I need to know."

Draco didn't know who started the kiss, or even how long it lasted out there in the darkening forest. All he knew was that he could finally taste Harry and he tasted like apple and cinnamon, and that his tongue seemed to fit perfectly within the confines of Draco's mouth, and that his hands were warm and his fingers nimble for a man who had been asleep for weeks.

He knew that he wanted his man, now more than ever, and that in some brilliant twist of fate, Harry wanted him too.

Author's Note: Well, I could leave off there, but there is one last part to post, so please stand by. Beeeeeep. Oh, and Happy New Year to everyone. My resolution is to finish my book and write more porn...not necessarily in that order.... What's yours?


	13. Snow White: Part 4

Author's Note: Many thanks to Deb and Shannon for working on this chapter for me and thanks to all the readers who have commented so far.

Part 4

"We should tell the Weasleys that you're okay," Draco murmured against Harry's swollen lips. He practically preened at the idea that he had made them that way through what seemed like hours of snogging.

"Would that involve stopping?" Harry asked, his arms wound tightly around the blond's waist as Draco hovered above him, straddling his lap.

"Well, yes," Draco regrettably answered, trying to shift off of Harry so that the man could get up, but Harry's grip only tightened, trailing from his thin waist to his angular hips.

"Then it can wait," Harry decided and pulled Draco into another heated kiss.

Harry's erection was prominent between them, and Draco couldn't seem to help himself as he moved against it, grinding down to feel it throb and eliciting delicious moans from Harry's ruby lips.

Eyes half-lidded, Draco tugged randomly at Harry's robes, frustrated noises sounding when he couldn't manage to free the brunet. Draco wanted to see him, all of him. Harry chuckled mildly and reached down to help before moving to Draco's own clasps and exposing both their naked chests to the cool night air.

Not that it remained cool for long.

Soon the air around them seemed to boil and crackle with the heat of their gazes and their magic. Lithe fingers explored Harry's chest, marveling at the chiseled expanse. "I had to keep fit in secret," Harry whispered, following Draco's gaze. "Voldemort wanted to keep me soft and malleable, but Mum wouldn't hear of it. She knew that a day would come that I would need to defend myself against him and she did everything she could to prepare me."

Draco swallowed thickly, the lust in his eyes melting away to be replaced with solemn apology. "About that, Harry," he began, but Harry shook his head sadly, holding a finger to Draco's lips.

"I figured it out already," he whispered. "For you to have lived at Riddle Manor with your mum, that means my mum was gone when you arrived. Voldemort told me he'd killed her, but I tried not to believe him, I tried to hold to hope that he was lying, but something tells me she didn't escape him like I did," he sighed. "I owe her everything."

"We'll stop him, Harry," Draco promised, his voice cold as steel. "I'll avenge my father and you can take revenge for both of the parents he stole from you. Nothing can stop us from killing him now."

A slow curve of a smile returned to those lips, casting Harry's entire face in a soft glow. "With you by my side, I'm invincible."

Their lips crashed together with a ferocity that hadn't been there before. Both men seemed spurred by a sudden urgency, as if they each wanted to claim and be claimed by the other, as if they had a lifelong destiny to fulfill. Harry's cock was already leaking when Draco first took it in his hand, trailing soft fingers along the shaft before he gently squeezed and stroked.

"Yes," Harry sighed, fumbling at Draco's trousers and exclaiming in triumph when he successfully disrobed the pale god above him. "Yours," he rasped, "Make me yours."

A desperate groan flew from Draco's lips before they smashed back into Harry's and he lifted the man, bringing their erections together. Harry hissed as Draco's hand encircled them both and stroked, grinning wildly as Harry began bucking into his hand. Neither of them wanted it to end so quickly, so Draco backed off, his precome-slicked fingers trailing down to the crevice of Harry's arse.

The brunet let loose a strangled cry when Draco's first finger breached him, but he soon found himself grinding down against the digit, eager for more – and more Draco gave. Suddenly there was nothing else in the world, no birds, no trees, no sky, no ground, only Draco and those perfect fingers, fucking him until he couldn't see straight.

When the fingers pulled away, Harry snarled with displeasure, his eyes flaring wide as if he'd curse Draco for withholding his magnificent touch, but he was quickly put to ease by the sight that met his eyes. Above him, Draco balanced, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and panting with lips parted and eyes half closed. He was stunning, and Harry knew that all of Draco's pale brilliance belonged to him. He sighed and relaxed completely; content in his knew knowledge, content with his new love. When Draco lined himself up and pressed forward, Harry waited for the pain, but if it came, he couldn't feel it because Draco's startling gray gaze had locked onto his own and anchored Harry in place, stealing his breath from his lungs and stilling his heart for a single precious moment in time.

Harry belonged. He belonged to Draco, to the woods, to the Weasleys, to his tragically departed family, to the earth and the air and water and the fires that blazed through his entire form. He was claimed and it was nothing but beauty.

Draco thrust forward with a snap of his hips, his eyes clouded with lust and love and raw power. Together they felt like a mighty conduit and, with eyes glazed and lips parted, Harry could see his future rushing before his eyes. Hand in hand he and Draco would rule in Riddle's place, and together they would be fair and pure and loved. They would put an end to an era of tyranny and fear and they would know a world free of hate mongering and strife.

When climax took him, he could feel Draco's surprised response as he thrust one last time and emptied himself inside Harry's waiting body. Legs still twined together, the air fogging with their gasping breath, Draco fell into his rightful place in Harry's arms and they remained that way – chests heaving and fingers twined – for longer than either knew.

It wasn't until a girlish shriek erupted from the edge of the clearing that Draco even remembered that they weren't entirely alone in this forest, and that anyone could have come upon them at anytime.

"Malfoy, you sick fuck!" Ginny yelled. "How could you defile poor Harry's body that way?!"

Draco's curious expression met Ginny's for a brief moment before the words made some sort of twisted sense and he couldn't help but laugh. "Ginny, this isn't what you think."

"How could you laugh about this? We trusted you, we thought you cared about Harry…but not _this much_!" she spat, stalking forward.

"I'm not…Harry's not dead," he rasped, still choking on his own chortle.

"I _feel_ dead," Harry groaned and yawned.

Ginny screamed at the sound, her eyes widening to bright blue saucers. "Harry! You-you're alive?"

"Apparently," he muttered. "Although I'm having trouble breathing at the moment."

Draco winced and slid from Harry's chest with a soft thud before he snuggled up beside him instead. "He's cured," Draco elaborated. "I tested him, he's fine," he added with a cheeky grin.

"I-I can't believe you did it! You saved him…and…well, I don't exactly know what to say about the rest but…congratulations, I suppose," she murmured, clearly at a loss for words.

"Why don't you run along and tell the rest while I get Harry presentable," Draco suggested, smiling down at Harry's snickering face.

"Um, right," she agreed and hurried off.

"She's a bit sweet on you, I think," Draco muttered when the redhead had gone.

"So I've been told," Harry replied. "Is she the only one?"

"No," Draco breathed, his gaze boring into Harry's with a heavy weight that might have crushed his chest had Harry not thought it felt so perfect. Draco pulled a ring from his own finger; a platinum bauble that bore what Harry could only assume was the Malfoy family crest. "Marry me."

"You realize I only just woke up a moment ago," Harry pointed out with a wry grin.

"If you don't say yes, I'll just put you to sleep again and sneak it on your finger," Draco threatened mildly, his grin betraying his words.

"Well, we wouldn't want that," Harry supplied. "So, I suppose I'll just have to say yes."

Draco slipped the ring onto Harry's finger with no further prompting and kissed him long and lingering, only pausing when a throat cleared from behind them. Draco blushed, remembering that they were both supposed to be properly dressed by now.

"We'll turn around," Arthur's voice announced. "Just make it quick."

Draco thanked him and set about redressing while Harry did the same. "Okay," Harry announced. "We're decent." Neither could help the embarrassed chuckle that followed, or the fact that their hands never parted while the Weasleys fawned over Harry's newly wakened state.

The entire family celebrated that night. Molly and Ginny made an elaborate feast, which they ate in the glade under the stars, while the twins told stories and entertained everyone with their humorous ends. Ron attached himself to Harry's other side, telling Harry about all he'd missed while asleep and Draco fought off the admiring thanks from everyone in the family for bringing Harry back to them. Even Percy seemed pleased.

They toasted to Harry's renewed health and to his and Draco's engagement and for a single night, all was well with the world. The next morning, Harry and Draco would set out to make sure it stayed that way.

* * *

"An army, Sir! There is an army on our doorstep!" shouted Riddle's servant Pettigrew as he burst into the room.

Voldemort ignored him for a moment as he finished toying with strategic statues on a giant table painted with the topography of Britain. A dark metal figure resided in the place marked Riddle Manor, and all around it little red pieces showed armies of Death Eaters moving out, searching the plains for followers to capture and Muggles to incinerate. This was his plan, and soon he would put it into action.

He already had a garrison preparing to set out for the outlying villages and take out the Weasleys and others of their kind. Filthy Muggle-lovers, all of them. They deserved to burn.

"Impossible," Voldemort remarked at last with a disregarding wave of his hand. "There isn't a resistance foolish enough to stand against me on my own grounds." Pettigrew worried at his hands, his gaze flicking from his Master's face to the window overlooking the front gate. Voldemort rolled his eyes and stood, striding over to the window. "Very well. Show me this army."

It wasn't an army. It was hardly enough to be called a gathering, much less an army. His eyes narrowed as he tried to pick out who they were, and only their brilliant ginger hair gave him the answer.

Voldemort cackled to himself at the sight. "If they think they have come here to avenge Potter, I'll make sure they leave here without their heads."

Quickly, Voldemort marched downstairs, his servant in tow. By the time he reached the ground floor he had at least a dozen men at his back. Snape and Narcissa hung back, carefully keeping themselves out of the fray as they watched. Narcissa's hand found the Potion Master's and clung to it desperately. She'd never been fond of the penniless Weasley family, but she dreaded to think what would happen to them at Voldemort's hand.

As he made his way over to the gate, his grin only grew more menacing. "Tell me, what are a group of peasant Weasleys doing at my door?"

The gate swung wide, admitting them through. That was how confident Voldemort was that he could beat these people down. He wagered that no magic would even graze his skin while his servants stood loyally around him.

"It's not just Weasleys," called a voice from the back and Riddle laughed heartily.

"Oh? Did you bring a few other ragtag townsfolk along as well?" he asked, not even bothering to suppress a smirk.

"Something like that," the voice called back, and then suddenly a dark-haired man stood in front of the redheaded contingent, smiling with wild, powerful eyes. Voldemort scarcely recognized this as the same boy he'd tricked three times and killed the last. It was like being haunted by the very thing he hated most - Mortality.

This boy was his end. He'd felt it in his bones all those years ago and he should have dispatched of Potter when he was just a defenseless child. Now the man practically glowed with raw energy, his fingertips crackling with power.

Riddle tried to have the gates slammed shut on them, but it was too late. Harry was already through, and at his side was Draco Malfoy, his missing stepson. "Draco, come to me," Riddle demanded, gesturing to the place at his side.

Draco laughed, a wicked, scoffing sound, and shook his head, reaching over to twine his fingers together with Potter's until they both hummed with raw magic. "We're here to kill you, Tom," Harry said, speaking for all of them apparently.

"You're just a boy, Potter," Voldemort spat, but his wide eyes betrayed him. "You cannot best me."

"Are we betting on that?" Harry asked, his voice low and threatening as his hand flicked out and nearly scalded Voldemort's skin with his power. Harry took an ominous step forward; Draco's own gate matching exactly as if they'd choreographed the tyrant's defeat. "You stole my family from me," Harry growled. "You tried to take my life as well. Tell me, Tom, why should I spare yours?"

"I could give you immortality," Voldemort said, standing taller now that he thought he had something the boys might want. "I could give you power over death."

"I've seen death, Tom," Harry replied lightly. "It's not something that I need to fear. You on the other hand," he added, "should be running and screaming for your life, because that's what you'll be doing in hell for the rest of eternity."

"I don't believe in hell, Potter," Voldemort spat.

"Well, it believes in you, Tom, and it's waiting for you now with open, hungry arms," Harry whispered. Magic flared from his outstretched hand and seemed to rend Riddle into a hundred pieces, leaving him weak and powerless. His body was whole, but Harry had reached in and tore Voldemort's power away, separating it from his flesh and holding it like a shimmering orb in between them.

With a blink, the ball of magic exploded and scattered. Pieces of it fell to the cobblestone at their feet, creating glittering patterns in the walkway that rising up into dancing statues. Other bits flew into the grass; sprouting up remarkable flowers and trees that no one had ever seen the likes of before. Everywhere the magic fell, Harry's hand guided it and molded it into something beautiful while Voldemort watched his magic – his life force – drain away.

By the time Harry and Draco were finished, Voldemort was nothing but a weak old man kneeling at their feet. "Kill me," he rasped. "Please, Potter. Finish me now."

Harry looked upon the man who had stolen so much from him, stolen so much from Draco and stolen so much from the people he ruled over. He could show mercy and end the man's life right there, but suddenly that seemed too kind.

Instead, Harry had him banished to the topmost tower of the castle, where he would live out the rest of his short days in pain and regret.

Voldemort's men had never so much as lifted a hand against Harry or his small army of loved ones, and whether that was out of fear or cleverness, Harry didn't know, nor did he care. They were free men now.

Draco squeezed his hand and led him inside the vast manor, tugging him up to the secret room that Harry had written about in his journals. That room had bound them together in tragedy and love.

Inside was the mirror Draco had first seen Harry's image, the mirror that had cursed Harry's youth with its prophecies and magic – driving Voldemort insane and power hungry. Harry's fingers traced the golden frame, dipping along the intricate carvings. "I can feel it trembling with magic," he whispered, glancing furtively at Draco. "It's afraid of us."

"It should be," Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "This mirror took away both of your parents and my father."

"The mirror only did as it was bid," Harry reminded him. "It was Tom Riddle's hand that issued the killing blows."

"This mirror only knows cruelty," Draco replied, glaring into the reflective surface. He had to admit; he rather liked the way Harry's skin seemed to glow from within, his power was ripe and as strong as the mirror had predicted.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall," Harry whispered, stroking the frame lovingly. "Why do you exist at all?"

A violent crack accompanied Harry's words, making the brunet step back. One massive fissure opened up in the center of the mirror, leaving a large, gaping wound in the metallic glass. The mirror shivered once and then all the light seemed to flee from within, sucked into darkness. "I think it's dead," Harry breathed, reaching out once more to feel the now tarnished frame.

His other hand was quickly caught by Draco's and the engagement ring warmed on his finger. "It's probably for the best," he replied, and tugged Harry away from the broken artifact. "Let's go and find mother. I'm eager to introduce you."

Harry shot his fiancé a gallant smile before placing a chaste kiss against his lips. "Will she approve, do you think?"

"She'll be ecstatic, Harry, maybe even as happy as I am," Draco promised and pulled Harry out of the secret room before sealing it up behind them, never to be opened again.

"A new life," Harry whispered as he followed Draco through the halls of the former Riddle Manor, "and a bright future."

"Together," Draco added, mirroring Harry's sentiment. "Forever."

FIN

Author's Note: So, that's the end, sappy as usual, but that's my thing I suppose. (At least when I'm not tricking you all into thinking Harry's shagged Lucius) Some of you have asked if I'm still taking requests for the next story, and the answer is yes. Although, I'm currently working on Rapunzel, which will be the next post, and after that I have Princess and the Pea, Goldilocks and I'm tossing around some ideas for Beauty and the Beast and the Frog Prince. I have no idea which of those stories will follow Rapunzel, or in what order, or what I'll do after that…but I'll be sure to update you when I do.


	14. Rapunzel: Part 1

Author's Note: Well, here I am again with another Twisted Faerie Tale, this time, in the form of Rapunzel. I have my dear friend Deb to thank for both requesting the story and doing the Beta for it. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Desperate cries echoed through the marble corridors of Malfoy Manor and Lucius couldn't seem to stop worrying his hands. He stood by his wife's bed, watching as she slowly deteriorated into a whimpering, pain-filled mess. He quickly swiped the cloth from her brow, wrung it out and replaced it with a new one, trying to offset her fever.

His good friend and Potions Master, Severus sat on the edge of Narcissa's bed, conducting a series of tests to try and determine exactly what the problem was. "She's dying," Snape said at last, not deigning to look up and meet Lucius' anxious glare.

"I can see that already, Severus. Now tell me what I can do to stop it," he snapped.

"I'll need to brew a potion, but I doubt you have all the ingredients I would require," he replied, now staring at the man in earnest.

"My ingredient stores rival any apothecary, I assure you, Severus. Take whatever you need, just save her life," he pleaded, for he was not above such an act in that moment.

"You have dragons' blood then?" he asked, and Lucius merely blinked at him.

"Dragons' blood is impossible to get, Severus. Surely there is something you can substitute," Lucius rasped, his throat closing as he imagined a life without his precious Narcissa by his side. The very thought of it nearly had him collapsing on the floor in despair, but he quickly pulled himself together. Or tried.

"I'm afraid if I attempt to substitute the dragons' blood with a lesser ingredient, I might make things worse, not better," he whispered. "It's the final ingredient I would need to add, however, so that would give you two days to procure some."

"Will she last that long?" Lucius asked, eyes wide and fearful.

"Yes, but only just," his trusted friend replied. "I'm afraid she won't last much longer than three without this potion."

Lucius nodded and summoned his house-elf with no further questions. "Wren is at your service, Master Lucius. What bid you?"

He started to give his commands for the house-elf to fetch blood from a dragon himself, but he feared that with time so short, he couldn't risk the outcome on a damned elf. "Find me a dragon, the closest you can locate, and bring me the Apparition coordinates within the hour. No longer, do you hear me?" he ordered and the house-elf nodded meekly and disappeared with a faint 'pop'.

Lucius spent the next half-hour pacing the floor of his wife's bedchamber and trying his best to make her as comfortable as possible. In her only lucid moment, Narcissa clutched her pregnant stomach and looked directly into his eyes. "You have to keep the baby safe," she demanded. "I don't care what happens to me, but make sure our son lives."

"I promise." He clasped her hands in his and squeezed them gently. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered and then the pain-filled screaming began again.

Another soft pop was Lucius' only indication that the house-elf had returned and he nearly ran to the creature's side. "Where can I find the dragon?" he asked. "Tell me."

Wren summoned a map from the study and with his finger, drew a glowing circle around an outcropping of stones. The stones were, of course, mountains, and thankfully it would only take three, maybe four Apparitions to reach them. "There is a cave, Master Lucius, here," the house-elf said, pointing to a narrow gully. "You'll find your dragon there."

"Excellent," he said, grabbing up the map. "I want you to search every Apothecary in England for a vial of Dragons' Blood. If you find it, I want you to notify Snape that he can pay their asking price from the Malfoy vault, whatever it is."

Lucius didn't hold to hope that any would be found, but in the chance that he might fail or die trying to procure the blood, he wanted there to be another way Narcissa might be saved. He knew Snape would do whatever he could in Lucius' absence, but he also knew the man wouldn't have time to scour the shops himself while brewing a delicate potion.

When he returned, Lucius vowed to hex every member of the Wizengamot that voted to make the ingredient illegal and so hard to procure. Had it not been for that Granger girl and her fighting to have all magical species treated equally, Lucius could have just petitioned the trainers in Romania for a vial and his darling wife would already be on her way to recovery.

After bidding his fitfully sleeping wife a solemn farewell, Lucius Apparated to the first point, pausing there only as long as it took to regain his energy to Apparate again.

* * *

The cave's entrance was ominous and dark, but Lucius hadn't expected otherwise. He was still slightly winded from his trip and felt as though all his magical reserves had been depleted. His logic told him to wait, or else he might be in trouble if he was too weak to fight an angry dragon, but his heart urged him to press forward. He'd nearly wasted a day already just getting to the caves. He could not afford any more delays.

Bravely, Lucius entered the dank cavern, stumbling occasionally because he was too weak to cast even a simple Lumos. Thankfully, he had no problem finding the dragon, because a soft glow and a musky scent led him to a vast stone room where the creature slumbered peacefully. Orange flames and thick black smoke puffed from the dragon's scaly nostrils as it breathed loud and level. It was like no dragon Lucius had ever seen before, and he hoped the rarity might mean that its blood would work more surely in Severus' potion.

The dragon's scales were sapphire blue and gleamed obsidian along its tail before tapering away to a set of spikes that Lucius had no doubts could kill him in an instant. From his robe pocket, Lucius extracted a vial and a strong Goblin blade and he crept as quietly as he could toward the slumbering beast. He didn't even have time to pierce the scaly hide before the massive tail swatted him away, sending him sprawling on his back across the sooty floor.

Lucius coughed and rubbed the back of his head as he levered himself up on his elbows to stare up at the great dragon. "Who dares come here and disturb my slumber?" it boomed in a terrifying voice.

Lucius righted himself, dusting off his ebony robes before addressing the dragon. "My name is Lucius Malfoy and I need your blood."

"Oh?" the dragon questioned in its gravelly tone mixed with something that might sound like a chuckle in any other voice. His eyes gleamed a pale purple, like a meadow filled with lavender. "And why should I give you such a gift when you tried to sneak in here and steal it from me?"

"My wife," Lucius pleaded. "She's dying and I need fresh dragon's blood for the potion meant to save her."

"What meaning does that have to me?" the dragon asked, peering at Lucius with idle curiosity. "I know not you or your dying wife. I owe you no favors."

"I could pay," Lucius replied. "Handsomely. I'd gladly give all the Galleons and treasures in my vault and all the precious heirlooms in my manor if you would grant me but a single vial of your blood to save my wife and child," he begged, falling to his knees.

"Child, you say?" the dragon purred, looking truly interested for the first time. It curled its massive tail in the air, flicking it back and forth like a content puppy.

"Yes," Lucius replied, nodding eagerly. "She is pregnant with our son."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" the dragon boomed cheerily. "I shall give you a vial of my blood-"

Lucius nearly whooped in response. "Thank you, oh thank you!" he cried.

"In exchange for your son," the dragon continued.

Lucius paused, absorbing the dragon's words with excruciating pain. "My son?" he breathed. "But he is not yet born, and he is my only child, my heir."

"A handsome gift requires a handsome price," the dragon replied. "If you want my blood, you will promise me your child. Do you agree?"

"How could a dragon possibly care for an infant?" Lucius gasped, his mind reeling.

"That is none of your concern. I might eat him for breakfast and it wouldn't matter because he would belong to me, not you," the dragon snarled. "Now, do you agree to my bargain or not?"

Lucius swayed in place, both his mind and body worn and tired. He remembered his wife's words, to save their child no matter what, but surely she was still delirious. It was still too far from her due date to save the baby if she died now, and perhaps there was a way for him to prevent his son from being stolen and gobbled up by the mighty dragon. He could put wards around the house and keep his son from ever leaving their sight. But none of that mattered if he didn't agree.

He didn't have time to look for a new dragon, and his son would never be born if his wife passed away. With the dragon's blood, Narcissa could live to have a dozen children if they wanted, and without it, Lucius would die cold and alone. There was no choice really, not in the end.

"Okay," he whispered forlornly, and the dragon swooped his scaly head forward to better hear Lucius' words. "I agree to your bargain," he repeated.

"Excellent," the dragon purred. "I will come for him on seventh day of the seventh month after his birth. If you do not relinquish him, I shall smite you down and take both wife and child as punishment." Lucius bowed his head in understanding and when he looked up, a vial of gleaming violet blood hovered in the air in front of him. "Now take it and go," he snorted, his eyes flashing with that haunting lavender glow once more.

Lucius did as he was ordered and fled the dark cave, both happy and grieved at his success.

* * *

"We should name him after your grandfather," Narcissa cooed, smoothing down the delicate blond tendrils on her son's head. "He has your eyes." She smiled down at her beautiful baby boy and then up into her husband's fiercely protective gray gaze as he ran his own fingertips along the pale baby's skin. His touch was hesitant and soft as if he feared shattering the boy while Narcissa held him close.

Lucius thought of the name, twirling it over and over again on his tongue and shook his head. No, Abraxas didn't seem right for the beautiful child in his wife's arms. Remembering the bargain he'd struck, another name seemed more appropriated. "Draconis," he whispered. "I'd like to name him Draconis."

Startled, Narcissa stared into her husband's intent gaze and nodded. "Draco," she cooed as she rocked the sleeping child. "Yes, that's perfect."

"Nothing will ever happen to you, my son, my Draco," Lucius promised, vowing never to allow the dragon to touch even a single golden hair from his son's head. He would protect them all, no matter what the cost.

* * *

January seventh dawned with a heavy fog over both the Manor grounds and Lucius' heart. He'd done everything he could think of to protect their home against the dragon barging in and stealing his only son. He'd kept Narcissa in the dark, knowing she would never forgive him for even considering such a pact, and it didn't matter anyway, because he wasn't going to let anything happen to their darling Draco, no matter what he'd bargained.

He spent most of the day anxiously awaiting a battle. Lucius kept near the windows, waiting to see the dark, looming shape of the dragon on the horizon, but breakfast, then lunch and then even dinnertime came and went without any sign of the beast. Lucius began to wonder if it had all been a dream. Had Narcissa even grown ill, had he found and struck an unwise bargain with a dozing dragon? He could remember vividly how terrified he'd been for Narcissa's life, how grieved he'd been for the potential loss of his son, and how giddy he'd been when Severus' potion had worked and Narcissa and the baby had been fine. Clearly it had happened, but perhaps the dragon was merely testing Lucius' resolve, trying to gauge how much he loved his wife by bargaining for their son.

And then the Manor clock struck seven and there was a heavy knock on the door.

Lucius went to the foyer, curious as to whom it might be. A dragon couldn't or wouldn't bother knocking. Besides, he'd been watching carefully and never saw the beast approach the Manor, nor did the wards give any indication of such a large intruder.

At the door stood but only a man. He wore dark blue robes that seemed to shimmer in the fading sunlight and contrasted sharply with his curly blond locks. He looked madly happy as he grinned across the threshold at Lucius. "Can I help you?" Lucius asked, eyeing the man curiously.

"I'm here for your son," the stranger replied. "Just as we bargained."

Lucius' eyes went wide and he tried to shut the door, but it was flung back into him with such force that it left Lucius stumbling. The man entered Lucius' home and strode straight for the dining room where Narcissa was still trying to get young Draco to eat. It was like he knew exactly where to find the boy even though he'd never stepped foot in Malfoy Manor before.

"Draco," he greeted softly, picking the boy up from his highchair while Narcissa looked on and gaped. Her eyes flicked to Lucius who looked stunned and terrified. "What a fitting name, Lucius. You've done our bargain proud."

"What bargain?" Narcissa asked, standing and marching toward the stranger who'd taken her child. "Lucius, what is he talking about?"

The man hefted the laughing child to his hip, smiling as Draco ran his fingers through his curls and gently tugged. "'Ragon," the young Draco cooed and the stranger chuckled and nodded.

"That's right, little one, but you may call me Gellert," he announced and all air fled from Lucius' lungs at the pronouncement.

"Grindelwald," he breathed, panic lacing through him. This wizard was renowned throughout all of Europe and maybe even the world. He possessed the Elder Wand, the greatest, most destructive wand to have ever been created.

"That's right, Lucius. I'm only an Animagus dragon, but in that form my blood is as potent and powerful as any Hungarian Horntail," he explained, and if Lucius had any doubts, they were all expelled when he saw the man's eyes flash that same stunningly frightening lilac they had in the cave.

"Well, I for one don't care who you are," Narcissa bit out. "That's my son and I demand you hand him over."

"Mamma," Draco cooed, pumping his little fists in the air, trying to reach for her.

"Mother's right here, Draco. Don't you worry, son," she replied anxiously.

"No, there is no need to worry, Draco," Grindelwald said, smoothing the boy's platinum hair tenderly from his brow. "You and I will be very happy companions. I'll teach you everything I know, so that one day, you'll be just as powerful as I am. You'll be my dragon apprentice."

"'Ragon!" Draco cried again, laughing and clapping his tiny hands together with boyish glee.

"I said, give him back," Narcissa growled. "He's going nowhere with you."

"Didn't your husband tell you?" Grindelwald asked. "He traded your son's life for the vial of my blood that saved yours. You should be thanking him, really."

"He what?" she seethed. "You what?" she demanded, glaring daggers at Lucius.

"It was the only way," Lucius explained, his tone pleading.

Grindelwald tisked, shaking his head in dismay as he strode past Lucius into the corridor. "Lucius, I'm ashamed of you. In my cave you were claiming to love your wife so dearly, but you didn't tell her that you'd sold off her firstborn son? How very inconsiderate of you."

Narcissa stiffened and drew her wand, leveling it at Grindelwald's retreating form. "Take another step and I'll Avada you so fast your head will spin off," she warned.

All that met her ears was a gravelly laugh. "Keep in mind that I'm holding your child, Narcissa. Be logical. You can't kill me without killing him as well."

Her eyes flashed with fury and for a moment, Lucius thought she would damn the consequences and kill him anyway, but her resolve wavered and so did her wand. "Please," she whispered, unshed tears welling in her eyes. "It's my son, my boy, please don't take him from me," she begged.

Grindelwald frowned, a delicate purse of the lips and shook his wild mane of blond hair, not quite as white as Draco's but more golden. "I'm sorry, Lady Malfoy, but a bargain is a bargain and you have nothing to offer that I would want in exchange."

"Nothing?" she asked, desperation in her voice as she slinked forward, her fingertips moving to the front lacing of her bodice. Lucius growled, but she paid him no mind as she moved gracefully forward like water from a pitcher.

Again Grindelwald chuckled. "I'm afraid your beauty is lost on me, Lady Malfoy," he told her and she collapsed to the ground, knowing she had nothing else to offer.

"Please," Lucius said. "You can have every Galleon, Sickle and Knut from our vault. Take our home, take our land, just please don't take our son."

Those lavender eyes turned upon him and Lucius withered beneath their power. "Are you going against your word, Lucius Malfoy?"

The Elder Wand was in the stranger's hand without Lucius even hearing a spell uttered and Lucius too fell to his knees prostrate. "Draco," he whimpered. "My son."

But when he looked up, there was no one there to claim, and no one there to fight, and only a furiously sobbing wife to try and console.

* * *

Author's Note: So, the story has been set to action. What do you think? Grindelwald has been great fun for me to write because there isn't much to go on. I've decided to make him Dumbledore's compliment and antithesis, as I feel Draco is for Harry. I doubt you'll like him as much as I do though…Oh, and this story will be the longest of the fairytales so far at 5 parts total.


	15. Rapunzel: Part 2

Author's Note: Thanks to Deb for her beta work, and thanks to all of you who had reviewed so far. Oh, this story also includes a lyric from The Whomping Willows (one of Deb's requirements) See if you can spot it.

Part 2

"_Reducto_!" Harry shouted and a spray of rocks flew into the sky and rained down on Sirius' head, making his godfather dodge and wince. The boulder that had been there before was now a pile of rubble and ruin.

"You fight dirty, Harry," his godfather called out, laughing at his own pun as he dusted his velvet jacket free of debris.

"I have to stay on my toes when I duel with you, Sirius. Who knows what pranks you'll pull to try and best me," Harry called back across the yard, grinning wildly.

"Pranks? Me? I'm offended!" Sirius replied, gasping indignantly as he clutched his heart in feigned shock. "_Expelliarmus_!" he shouted, while Harry was laughing at his godfather's antics.

"Arhg!" Harry exclaimed, his wand flying from his fist. "See. I told you so."

"_Semino Nemus_!" Sirius shouted next, and a root grew from the ground, larger and larger until it lifted Harry up and sent him toppling to the ground, the air rushing from his lungs in a giant whoosh. He heard the ground cracking all around him, and when he looked up, a massive tree stood where he'd just been standing a moment before.

"Aw, Harry. You got beat by a tree," Sirius teased, causing Harry to glare back at him malevolently.

"Merlin, Sirius! You could have killed me with that thing!" Harry grumbled, grabbing up his wand from the ground beside him.

"I wouldn't have let you get hurt, Harry. You ought to know that by now." Sirius walked over to where Harry sat, covered in grass and soil, and pulled him to his feet. "Not every wizard you come across will be quite so fair though."

"I know," Harry sulked as he cast a _Scourgify_ on his robes. The moment Sirius turned his back to walk toward the house, Harry leveled his wand and whispered, "_Serpensortia_," at the ground by Sirius' feet.

A brilliant green snake slithered from the tip of his wand and slinked over to where Sirius was walking oblivious to Harry's spell work. A string of hissing words flew from his tongue, directing the snake not to bite, but to rear up and scare his godfather. The snake nodded his wide head obediently and slithered into Sirius' path.

The man gave a shout and leapt nearly a metre into the air before hearing Harry's laughter behind him. "Never turn your back on an armed wizard, Sirius," he lectured. "You should know better."

"I should," he replied, his eyes never leaving the snake. "Now, could you get rid of that thing? You know I hate snakes!" Harry chuckled and the snake disappeared with a wave of his hand. Sirius' eye flared wide at that and he stood there gaping at his godson in shock. "Since when could you do wandless magic, Harry?"

The man shrugged and sheathed his wand. "I've been able to do it for years now. Why, can't you?"

"No, Harry. Only very powerful wizards can perform wandless magic, and I've never heard of a seventeen year old boy able to do so, much less someone younger," Sirius commented, twirling a finger in his wild goatee. "Why have you never used it while dueling before?"

"It doesn't seem proper," Harry replied. "I like the feel of a wand in my hand; the hardness and power of the smooth wood."

Sirius blinked, trying to dispel his godson's words and he turned away, shaking his head as he walked back into the cottage without another sound. One day Harry was going to realize that he was in fact a lover of men, but Sirius refused to push him. He'd known for quite sometime now, but Harry was still young, still exploring and trying to figure out who he was. When the time came that Harry was willing to admit his sexuality to himself, and to his family, Sirius would be there for him. Just like he always was.

He couldn't, however, explain Harry's gift, but he should have expected it. Harry had always been advanced in his skills, able to master a spell or curse faster than anyone Sirius had ever known, including the boy's mother, Lily, who was the cleverest witch he'd ever met. The power behind the boy's Patronus at only thirteen years old was a testament to his ability. Sirius loved Harry like a son, but he often wondered if there was more to his godson's destiny than living in a humble cottage and being tutored by his father's childhood friend.

He vowed to discuss it with Remus after dinner that night. Perhaps there was an academy they could enroll Harry in. Sirius would be loath to see his godson shipped away, but he would do whatever was in Harry's best interest. Perhaps his little prodigy could be Minister for Magic one day.

"Sirius, I think I'm going for a quick fly," Harry called after him and his godfather turned and waved.

"Whatever you like, Harry. Just be back before dinner or Remus will have both our arses!" Sirius called back, making Harry chuckle as he took off for the broom shed.

Flying always cleared Harry's mind, and he was slightly worried about what his godfather had told him. Was it really so rare for him to be able to use magic without a wand? It sometimes helped him focus the energy when he used a wand, which is why he opted for it when dueling, but most of the time it was easier to just think about what he wanted to happen and _make_ it happen. It was how he accomplished most of his chores, though he doubted he'd tell Sirius that or else he might wind up with more.

Did this make him a freak? He supposed adding one more oddity to the list wouldn't mean much at this point. He was Harry Potter, boy who never got to know his parents, the boy who apparently defeated a dark lord as in infant, procuring a lovely scar as a memento. Now he was the boy with too much magic.

Harry sighed as he pulled his broom from the cupboard and took to the sky. Swooping and diving through the air, Harry let all of his worries drain away. He skimmed the treetops of the neighboring forest, rustling birds from their nests and sending them into squawking frenzies. The toes of his trainers occasionally brushed some of the higher branches, but Harry didn't fall. He never fell. He was as adept at flying on a broom as he was with his wand, maybe even more so.

No thought entered Harry's mind save that of peculiar cloud shapes or the endless feel of the wind against his face… until he heard a voice on that wind that nearly knocked him from the sky. He slowed, unable to guess where it came from, but his ears absorbed the sound and craved more of it. Someone was singing, and the tune might have been the most beautiful thing Harry had ever heard. There were no words he could make out, no lyrics, but the song was lovely nonetheless and the voice of the singer was lovelier still.

Harry tried to follow the sound, rising higher to try and get a glimpse of where it might be coming from. So far as he knew there were no villages or houses nearby, but soon he was high enough to see the tip of a tall tower peeking out through the canopy. That had to be where the music was coming from, so he dove in the direction of the tower, listening to the melody as he grew closer.

The nearer Harry got, the more erratic his broom started to react, bucking beneath him like an untamed horse. Eventually Harry was forced with the decision to land or turn back, because wards around the tower seemed to prevent anyone from accessing it by air. He might have turned back, except the song was too beautiful, the voice too enchanting and he felt compelled to find the source. Harry frowned and silently debated what he should do. Sirius would be angry with him if he attempted to visit the tower by foot. There was obviously someone magical living inside and the wards were strong enough to indicate a powerful witch or wizard resided there.

But Harry felt confident in his dueling ability should it come to blows, and he had no reason to suspect it would. So, down he went, through the canopy until he landed safely on the soft forest floor. He felt around in front of him, trying to determine if the wards would prevent him from going forward on foot, but they seemed to flow around him like silk now. Harry presses ahead, the woods growing darker all around him, the beautiful voice drawing him to the tower like a moth to a flame.

The tower was amazing when he found it. It seemed ordinary enough at first, but the stacked stones were nearly solid black, sparkling in the moonlight, and for the life of him, Harry couldn't find the door. There had to be one, he reasoned. It was likely hidden with magic, so Harry tried whatever Charm he could think of to reveal it, but nothing worked. At the top, Harry could see but a single window, the green glass panes swung open, and that was where the stunning voice was coming from.

Harry stared up for a long time, trying to figure out a way to scale the tower wall. The stones were too slick, and there was nothing for Harry to clutch when he tried to climb up and his broom was still just a useless sweeping instrument in his hands at the moment. Nothing seemed to work, and after hours of trying, Harry was forced to leave the tower unfulfilled. He wanted so desperately to meet the person that voice belonged to, but it wasn't to be, so Harry flew back home, ready to be scolded for missing dinner, the haunting song following in his wake.

* * *

Draco sat just inside the window in his chambers at Nurmengard tower, watching the sky turn to inky black. A song he'd learned on the harp that morning still lingered with him, and he sang it into the air, willing someone to hear it and come to ease his loneliness.

The tower wasn't horrid. He was trapped there, sure, but Grindelwald did everything he could to make it comfortable for him and his almost daily visits were the highlight of Draco's existence. He didn't know what he would have done without the wizard's strong and powerful hand to guide him. The man taught him how to read, to write, to play whatever instrument Draco fancied, but best of all, Grindelwald taught him magic.

He often asked after his parents, craving to learn more about them, but on that subject, Grindelwald remained quiet, saying only that they had been fine people murdered by the dark wizard that Grindelwald was trying to protect Draco from now. Draco learned not to question how he'd ended up in the care of the gracious wizard, but he was thankful to the man, and tried to be always obedient.

Draco would love to take walks in the forest, see flowers growing straight out of the ground or meet people other than his loving master, but he knew better than to ask. Grindelwald provided him shelter, food, knowledge and companionship and all he asked in return was for Draco to remain in this room for him and him alone. Draco had gone through a few years where the price seemed too steep, but he'd long gotten over the idea of rebelling against Grindelwald.

It was folly to argue with the man, for Grindelwald would always win and as his ward, Draco was bound to heed his words. Besides, his chambers were hardly anything to scoff at. He had all that he needed and most of what he wanted on the top two floors of the tower. A large canopy bed rested on the topmost floor, with his bathing chamber and his vast closets, and a narrow, spiraling stair led him to another floor just below it. There, Draco could prepare food or delight in whatever he craved at the moment whether it be reading or music or his studies in magic. Draco had whatever he liked, courtesy of his noble keeper.

All in all, Draco was content, but there were still many nights that Draco wished for something more. In one of the books he'd read the week before, it described a couple kissing, and Draco wondered what it would feel like to press his lips to another human being's or to feel them wrapped around him, holding him while he slept. Gellert would sometimes kiss Draco's forehead as he left, or embrace him briefly as a greeting, but it was fatherly and Draco wanted to be touched by a lover's hand, not his master's.

Pulled from his song by a rustling of leaves, Draco thought he heard, or rather felt, someone stirring down below at the tower's bottom, but when he leaned up to peer over the edge, there was no one there. With a sigh, Draco resigned to his bed and tried to forget about his idle wishes to meet that perfect someone that would complete him. He had Grindelwald after all, and he was a great man who cared dearly for him.

That would be enough. For now.

* * *

Grindelwald glanced at the ground at the base of Nurmengard tower and scowled. It looked like someone had been there the night before, but he couldn't be sure. It could have just as easily been a woodland creature, but the repelling wards should have put off most of those. He had so much magic lingering around the tower that he was sure no one could get to his precious Draco, but he still worried, especially now that Draco was of age and asking for more adult reading materials. He knew that at some point, Draco would stop seeing him as a mentor and start seeing him as a prison guard, and Grindelwald dreaded that moment.

Things between them had already grown tense, because Draco was blossoming into a very beautiful man. It had been simple to resist Draco's charms when he was younger because he'd been but a boy then, but now he was lithe and handsome and clever and Grindelwald fought every day not to press his advantage as the boy's keeper. Grindelwald's visits had grown shorter and more sporadic as he tried to fight off the burgeoning lust he now felt for his ward, but that morning he had decided to try a new tactic.

Perhaps, with a little encouragement, Draco could be his in every way. He had no idea if the man looked at him that way, but Grindelwald was nothing if not persuasive.

"Draco, oh Draco, let down your hair, so that I may climb up your golden stair," he called up to the open window. Moments later a long braid was lowered down and Grindelwald used the platinum mane to climb up to his Dragon in the sky.

"Draco, my lovely, how are you today?" he asked as he stepped into the blond's room.

"I'm well," Draco answered, but Grindelwald could sense that something was off.

"What is it? What do you lack? Have you decided to give up the harp? Are your robes too drabby, should I bring you new ones?" he asked.

"No, everything is fine," Draco assured him and pulled the wizard downstairs behind him. Grindelwald caught a glance at the book Draco was reading, a Shakespearean tale, and he smirked down at it before pulling a new volume from his inner pocket.

"I've brought you something new to read. How are you liking Romeo and Juliet?" he asked.

"I like it very much, Sir," Draco replied, taking the new novel from his hands and staring at the cover for a long while.

"Please, Draco, you no longer need to call me sir. You are a man now, my equal in most ways. You should call me Gellert," he corrected.

Draco bowed his head, and Grindelwald grinned at his obedient boy who would likely remain that way in bed. A thrill ran through him and straight to his cock as he imagined being able to order his ward into doing whatever perverse thing he liked. He licked his lips, unable to stop the action and noticed Draco follow the movement with interest.

"I think today we should study some of the more advanced magic," Grindelwald explained. "Binding magic, perhaps," he whispered. Draco tensed, but nodded, waiting for his master's instruction.

Grindelwald demonstrated, using his wand to conjure and direct several long pieces of rope, which he used wrapped around the banister leading upstairs. "Brilliant," Draco remarked, moving over to study the man's handiwork. "Can you do the same with other things, like ribbon or cords?"

"I can," Grindelwald replied, using his magic once more to create a long, thick ribbon, which he tied around Draco's wrists. "I can even use it to summon something I want," he explained, and gave the ribbon a sharp tug, pulling Draco against him. Draco's chest was heaving with the strength of his breathing, their lips only centimeters apart.

Grindelwald's fingers came up and caressed Draco's pale cheek, trailing down to whisper over those pouting lips. "This is different," Draco breathed out in a hot puff.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I – I don't know," Draco admitted and Grindelwald took a decisive step back.

"You think of me as your father, don't you, Draco?" he asked and the blond nodded solemnly. "Well don't. Think of me as a man who cares for you, who wants you, who needs you."

"You need me?" Draco asked, obviously unsure of this new development between them.

"I do," Grindelwald whispered. "Would you permit me a kiss?" he asked. Draco looked to be thinking it over, but eventually nodded as Grindelwald had expected he would.

He pressed his lips to Draco's feeling the warmth of his body against his own as he stepped forward. He flicked his tongue out slowly, tentatively, but Draco relented after a moment allowed his master to bask in the delightful flavor of him. He was fully erect by the time they broke apart, and it took all of his willpower to step back and see what effect he'd had on his young ward.

Draco stood there as if dazed, his lips still slightly parted. "That was-"

"Perfect," Grindelwald said.

"Weird," Draco finished in the same moment, glancing up with fear in his eyes the next. "I'm sorry, it's just, you've raised me and I love you, but not in any romantic sense," he sighed, fumbling with a button on his robes.

Grindelwald shook the comment off with a laugh but narrowed his eyes. "You'll change your mind. You'll see me as a lover one day, Draco. Even if I have to make you," he replied ominously. "I think that will be all for today. Walk me to the window now."

* * *

Draco shivered at the man's words and obediently walked with him upstairs, lowering his enchanted braid to the ground so that Grindelwald could climb down. After the man had gone, Draco pulled his long hair back up, pressed his fingers to his lips and nearly sobbed. He had known better than to wish for anything more than what he had. One wish for a romantic companion, and now here he was, dreading his next encounter with the man he had loved and trusted.

Would he ever see Grindelwald as the man who would fulfill him in every way? Would he even have a choice? Grindelwald had forced him into things before, but would he force this upon him as well? There was nothing in their past that made Draco think that he wouldn't, but Draco worried what that might mean. It seemed his entire life had started to crumble.

Just as he was about to move away from the window and busy himself with something else, Draco heard a voice from below, asking to let his hair down again. Draco's entire body went rigid, worried that Grindelwald had returned to force himself upon him, and for a moment, Draco thought of refusing him access to the tower, but only for a moment. If he denied his master, there would be punishment, and it wasn't as if he could ignore the wizard's call forever. He would need food at some point and Grindelwald was powerful, as he'd proven time and time again. He would find a way up regardless.

Slowly, Draco lowered his hair once more, feeling a vague but painless tug as his master climbed. He saw the first dim shadow of him and then averted his gaze, unable to look up into the violet eyes that would betray him. But as he pulled the hair back up, rounding to finally greet his captor, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

"Who are you?" he asked, balking as his eyes met the brilliant green orbs of a stranger.

This man was far younger than Grindelwald, dark where his master was light, fit and handsome. Although, Draco's gaze didn't leave those emerald eyes for long. The messy, ebony hair, the sun kissed flesh and the cheeky grin were nothing in comparison to the jewel tone quality of the stranger's gaze.

"I heard you singing last night," the man replied, his voice a breathy whisper. "I had to meet you."

Draco narrowed his eyes and remained otherwise stoic. This impertinent man had tricked him, scaled his hair and was now standing before him like a curious cat and Draco was supposed to believe he'd done all of this because of a song on the air? It might have been what he'd secretly wished for, but even when thinking of it he'd known it was silly and impossible. For a moment, he suspected that this was some sort of test from Grindelwald, but surely his master knew he was far too clever to fall for such a blatant farce?

"You never told me who you are," he pointed out blandly.

"Oh, right," the man replied with a blush Draco found alarmingly adorable. "My name's Harry. Harry Potter."

"Well, Harry Potter, mind telling me what you're _really_ doing here?" Draco asked.

"I already told you. I heard your voice last night. I tried for hours to reach you up here, but I couldn't figure out a way," Harry replied.

"You expect me to believe that you've been down in that glade all night long and today as well?" Draco demanded, rolling his eyes.

"Obviously I went home before coming back today," Harry replied as he took in Draco's reclusive flat. "I'm not a creeper after all," he added as an afterthought.

Draco couldn't help the laughter that bubbled to his lips at such a casual remark to his insanity or lack thereof. "No, it's not creepy at all to so persistently stalk a man you've never met simply because of his voice," Draco replied.

"Exactly." The word was uttered with such blinding sincerity that Draco didn't know how to respond. "So, do you have a name then? Or should I just call you nightingale?"

"Call me whatever you like," Draco scoffed. "It matters little to me as you'll be dead the moment my master arrives."

"Your master?" Harry asked, wandering further into the chambers unbidden. He picked up a vase in the corner, admired it for a moment and set it down again before moving on to the next trinket, all the while ignorant to Draco's irritation.

"Would you put that down," he ordered, snatching a dragon figurine from Harry's grasp and setting it aside. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to touch other people's things?"

"No," Harry replied, taking a step away from the glowering blond. "I never really knew them. I live with my godfather and his husband."

"Oh," Draco breathed, wincing as he looked away. "Sorry. I never really knew mine either."

"And who is this _Master_ you speak of?" Harry asked, eager to change the subject.

"The one who saved me," Draco replied vaguely. "He put me here a long time ago so that the evil man who killed my parents couldn't find me."

"Apparently we have a lot in common," Harry mused. "Aside from the tower thing of course."

Draco smiled despite his best effort not to and silently moved to close the gap between them. "Who are you _really_?" he asked softly.

"Just Harry," the brunet replied and Draco thought he had never seen such honest eyes.

"Very well," he sighed. "You may call me Draco."

"Draco," Harry repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue like a fine wine. "I like that."

"Well, it sure beats the name Harry, that's for sure," he mocked.

Harry laughed, looking completely unprovoked and moved over to Draco's bed, running his hand along the fine silk bedding. "So, you never leave? The tower, I mean?"

"I have no need," Draco replied, trying to dispel the images that flew into his brain with Harry standing so close to his bed. Suddenly he could see Harry's strong arms surrounding him and tossing him to the mattress like a rag doll, ravaging his body with a passion Draco never thought he would experience.

"Have you no friends, no other family?" Harry pressed, now stroking the bedposts reverently as Draco watched on; unable to resist comparing the motion to the way he secretly wanted Harry to stroke _him_.

He swallowed and blushed, trying to recover before he had to reply. "What use would that be. I'm content here. My master loves and protects me," he answered, thanking his voice for not breaking.

"Love?" Harry asked, pausing in his caress of the wood and stepping away from the bed, which put him closer to Draco. "You love him?"

"Yes," Draco answered with only an ounce of hesitation. He would have been able to answer blindly had it not been for the recent development between he and Grindelwald, and perhaps if not for the dark-haired beauty before him.

"So, he's your lover?" Harry asked.

"I don't see how that's any business of yours," Draco snapped.

"You're right," Harry said, backing up again. "So, what do you do up here all day?"

The way Potter so easily changed subjects, as if slipping on a new pair of rear hugging denims, was maddening. Still, Draco tried to go along since it was his idea that the conversation shift to begin with.

"I read, I write, I study," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm learning to play the harp at the moment."

"The harp?" Harry asked, obviously trying to suppress a chuckle. "Really?"

"There's nothing wrong with the harp," Draco grumbled, turning away so that Harry wouldn't see the way his teasing had affected him.

"No, I suppose not," Harry replied soberly. "I enjoy Quidditch myself."

"Quidditch? You really play that? I read about it, but it seemed dreadfully dangerous," Draco gasped, turning and staring at the dark haired man in earnest. He could envision it easily enough, Harry's strong legs wrapped around a broom handle, hurtling through the sky at tremendous speeds.

"It's brilliant," he replied wistfully. "Soaring over the treetops, feeling the damp of the clouds, escaping everything and everyone."

"It sounds…freeing," Draco whispered.

"It is," Harry agreed. "My head is always clear when I'm on my broom."

"I suppose that's different than the rest of the time?" Draco countered, unable to resist himself.

Harry merely smiled though, running a hand through those ebony locks of his. "You're sort of a prat, aren't you?"

"Does that bother you?" Draco asked, unaware that his hair was shortening as he moved closer to the raven-haired stranger until Harry's eyes went wide.

"Your hair," he gasped, watching as the braid slowly unwound as Draco's hair returned to its normal length, falling just over his forehead and curling around his ears.

"The other is a spell," he explained, smiling at Harry's befuddled expression. "It's just to allow my master entrance to the tower."

"And me," Harry pointed out with a cheeky grin.

"So it would seem," Draco replied. "Speaking of. You really shouldn't be here. If he finds out he'll murder you and throttle me."

"What's the matter? Not allowed to have handsome men in your bedchamber?" Harry teased, reaching up as if he would run his fingers through Draco's hair before he stopped short and let his hand fall to his side.

"Who said I think you're handsome?" Draco corrected, smirking at Harry's pout. "Besides, you'd get bored stuck here in the tower with me."

"Something tells me I'd find something to do," Harry breathed and Draco found himself captivated once more by that emerald gaze. He was forced to shake his head to keep from pulling Harry close and tasting of those sweetly parted lips.

"You should go. This is dangerous," he said, marching over to the window, his hair already beginning to grow into the lengthy braid again. "He'll know you've been here and he'll punish me for it."

"I don't want that," Harry said honestly as he followed Draco to the window.

"He comes to me every day at the same time," Draco said, "but he leaves me before the sun sets."

"I could come back," Harry offered, balancing on the window ledge as Draco lowered his hair once more. "Do you want me to come back?"

"Don't let him see you," Draco warned as an answer, his eyes locked with Harry's emerald green gaze. "Whatever you do, don't let him see you come to me. If he's not suspicious when he visits tomorrow, then I'll let down my hair for you," Draco promised, and Harry hoped that Draco's master remained ignorant of his visit. He certainly wanted no harm to come to the lovely captive, but he selfishly wanted to see him again. "And for Merlin's sake, do try and brush a comb through that hair."

Harry laughed and began his descent, waving up at Draco when his feet touched firm ground. He lingered longer than he should, watching as Draco's braid faded away and his shadow moved further into his quarters, before finally setting off through the path he now knew well through the forest where he'd left his broom.

* * *

Author's Note: For anyone interested, I'm auctioning off a Harry Potter or Merlin story for the Haiti relief. See my Live Journal for details.


	16. Rapunzel: Part 3

Author's Note: This chapter also has a Whomping Willows lyric as well as a Joan Crawford quote, per Deb, who I need to thank for being my sweet and pervy beta. Thanks also to everyone who reviewed so far.

Part 3

"You're lookin' kinda mopey and forlorn this morning," Sirius noted sarcastically as his godson practically skipped to the breakfast table.

"Hush," Harry replied, a wild grin on his face. "I think I might have found…" he began, but his voice trailed off as he stared wistfully out the kitchen window.

"Found what?" Remus prodded before Sirius had the chance.

Harry just shrugged, but couldn't seem to wipe the giddy smile from his face. "I met someone."

The other two men just stared in silence, eyebrows hidden under their fringe as they waited for more of the shocking story.

"He lives in the forest, well, not the forest exactly, but a tower _in_ the forest. Well, he's stuck there, someone is holding him there, and the only way in is up the man's, Draco is his name, up Draco's hair," Harry rambled, unaware that he sounded foolish and fanciful.

"Um, that's great, Harry," Remus replied reluctantly. "Why are you allowed up there?"

"Well, I suppose I'm not," Harry admitted, a bit dejectedly. "But I'm visiting again tonight, and if everything goes well, I'll get to see Draco again."

"Do you…fancy this boy, Harry?" Sirius asked, ignoring Remus' scowl. They'd always agreed not to push Harry toward men just because that's what they'd wanted. Remus thought it was unbalancing enough that Harry's only parental influence was gay, and he wanted Harry to have whatever options the boy wanted. Sirius agreed, but unlike Remus, he didn't think there was anyone Harry would prefer more than a nice, fit bloke.

But maybe that was just his own libido talking, and one look at his husband wearing only a terrycloth robe made him doubt his feelings were entirely centered on Harry.

"I might," Harry admitted, and Sirius held back his triumphant whoop only because it would mean making Remus angry and withholding.

"Well, you should be careful, Harry," Remus warned. "Powerful wizard or not, it sounds like you might be getting in a bit over your head."

"I will, Remus. I promise," Harry placated, but Sirius wondered if Harry even knew what words he spoke while he stared into his bowl of cereal like it held all the answers to the world's secrets.

"Let's get out in the yard for training," Sirius said, determined to pull Harry out of this dazed state. If everything his godson said about this strange boy locked in the tower was true, Harry would need his wits about him. He knew better than to try and stop him, Harry was of age now, after all, and Sirius would rather Harry feel like he could tell them anything than try and forbid the boy from seeing this Draco fellow, but he could make sure Harry went into the forest prepared. "Finish up and meet me out there."

Harry nodded and shoveled a bite into his mouth as Sirius and Remus shared a silent, worried glance.

* * *

"Have you seen anything stalking around outside, Draco?" Grindelwald asked the moment he climbed into Draco's window.

"No, why do you ask?" he answered immediately, his heart thrumming in his chest. This was it, what he'd been dreading would happen. What had he been thinking by letting some strange boy into his room? Any moment Grindelwald was going to accuse Draco of betraying him and punish him harshly.

"I noticed some scrabbling marks on the tower wall, like an animal was clawing at it," he replied.

"That's horrid," Draco gasped, trying to cover his relief with something genuine. "Am I still safe up here?"

"Of course you're safe," Grindelwald soothed, pulling Draco into his arms. "You're always safe with me."

Draco let the man hold him as he breathed in the scent of honeysuckle, lavender and power and vaguely wondered what his stranger smelled like. He knew from the fact that Harry had brought up Quidditch that he knew something of magic, but how much Draco hadn't discovered…yet. Perhaps flying was the extent of it.

"You seem lost in thought, Draco. What's troubling you?" Grindelwald asked, and Draco shook his head.

"Nothing, Master," he replied and Grindelwald pulled back slightly to look at his young ward. Draco's features were pale, pointed and lovely, enough to cause anyone to fall smitten with him. He was quite fit, especially given the man got little exercise locked away in the tower. Grindelwald contributed it to a good diet and the accelerated metabolism potions in Draco's daily regiment. Though his hair was not naturally long, Grindelwald had once requested Draco leave it that way when he visited, as the man liked to stroke the platinum brilliance of it. Now he used it to twine around his arm and hold Draco close.

"I like it when you call me master," he admitted, using his free hand to caress Draco's pinking cheek.

"I live to please you, Master," he replied dutifully and Grindelwald thought that the man must be goading him into losing himself.

He allowed a low, almost guttural moan to escape his lips as his fingers trailed along Draco's jaw, neck and then ran down his clothed chest. Draco's breathing hitched, his expression turning to worry, but he couldn't help that the erotic touch stirred something within him, even if he had to pretend the hands belonged to another.

Draco bit into his bottom lip to stave off a moan when his master's hand dipped lower, stroking the bulge that began to form beneath his robes.

"No," Grindelwald chastised. "Do not silence yourself. I want to hear you. I want you to vocalize how much you want me."

"I-this still feels wrong," he admitted, trying to pull away from his captor. Grindelwald wasn't relenting so easily, however, still keeping his grip on Draco's long braid tight and fierce.

"Undress me," Grindelwald ordered, taking Draco by surprise. He shivered, shaking his head.

"You can't be serious," Draco gasped.

"And you will continue to call me Master until I tell you otherwise, understood?" he demanded.

"Yes, Master," Draco rasped, bowing his head.

It wasn't the first time Grindelwald had required this of him. Early in Draco's studies, Grindelwald had told him to call him Master while being tutored in magic. And then again, when Draco grew into a rebellious teen, Grindelwald had issued the same edict as punishment, threatening never to visit Draco again if he didn't learn to appreciate the gifts and safety his Master bestowed upon him. This time was different, however, and Draco's knees shook at the sexual heat that Grindelwald exuded.

"You will learn that I do not have the body of an old man, though I am your senior," he said, tightening his grip on Draco's hair.

Draco nodded and began to obey. He'd never thought that his Master looked old, even though he knew the man was at least twice his age if not older. He didn't know if it was potions, or some other kind of magic that kept the wizard looking young, but he did. Grindelwald's hair was made of tight, blond ringlets. His cheeks were round and flushing like a man in his late twenties. Only his violet eyes showed the wisdom and power of his age.

As Draco stripped Grindelwald's chest bare, he found trim muscles that lead to a thicket of golden hair peeking out from above black trousers. With shaking fingers, Draco continued his task, regretfully eager to see another naked body besides his own. When the trousers fell away, it revealed taut legs and an angry, purple, jutting cock that made Draco suddenly terrified.

"Touch it," Grindelwald ordered, and dreading the consequences of refusal, Draco reached out and wrapped his nimble fingers around his master's erection. Grindelwald hissed with pleasure and covered Draco's fingers with his own, moving their entwined fists up and down along the engorged shaft.

"Am I doing it right, Master?" Draco asked, staring down at the furious looking erection in his hand as it moved up and down, up and down, Grindelwald occasionally thrusting jerkily into his fist with a gasping moan.

"Yes, yes, Draco," he cried, just as cords of semen erupted from his cock, coating Draco's chest and hand. Grindelwald only took a moment to compose himself before he was pulling up his own trousers. "Do you need help?" he asked, gesturing to Draco's obvious erection. Even though he wasn't attracted to his fatherly captor, Draco couldn't help but be turned on by what they'd just done.

"No, I think I can handle it, Master," Draco replied, and Grindelwald nodded curtly.

"I think that will be all for today then. Walk me to the window and I'll leave you to finish yourself off," he directed.

Draco felt an enormous sense of relief that his Master wasn't going to press him any further today, but he worried about what was still to come. Slowly, Grindelwald made his way down the ladder of hair Draco provided, his robes and shirt wrapped haphazardly around his torso, not buttoned properly.

He watched Grindelwald disappear and moved away from the window for just a moment, only to hear a familiar voice calling out for him to lower his braid once more. With a flick of his wand and a muttered spell, Draco cleaned the drying release from his flesh and robes. Going back to the window, Draco tried to be annoyed that his stranger not only lacked the patience to wait long enough to be sure Grindelwald was gone from the area and also kept him from taking care of his…problem, but he couldn't muster the energy to be cross. He was happier to see the raven-haired idiot than he thought possible.

"Hullo, Draco," Harry greeted upon reaching the landing.

"Did you listen to a single word I said last night?" Draco asked in response. "How long did you wait down there? A whole minute? And you didn't even touch your hair!"

"I did!!" Harry protested, his hands immediately going to his messy, black locks. "I tried, anyhow."

Draco gave him a skeptical huff but waved for Harry to follow him downstairs to the main level of his quarters, a part Harry hadn't seen yet. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished," Harry admitted while he watched Draco slink into a small kitchen area and prepare two sandwiches. "Oh, I brought you something!"

Draco looked up to watch his stranger fishing about in his robe pockets until finally he produced a colorful manuscript. "What's that?"

"You said you liked to read, and you sounded interested when I mentioned Quidditch, so I thought you'd appreciate a magazine about it," he chimed. "I can bring you more if you like. This was just the first one I grabbed off my floor. Don't even know what issue it is, really," he admitted with a flush.

"How…thoughtful…sort of," Draco replied snarkily, even as he eagerly grabbed the periodical from Harry's hands. He opened it at once and gaped at the sight.

"Do you hate it?" Harry asked worriedly, but Draco was unable to answer.

"Is this a joke?" Draco asked warily, his gray eyes locking on Harry's brilliant green ones.

"What? No, why would you think that?" Harry asked, grabbing the magazine from Draco's grasp. He too gaped at the sight within, his face turning scarlet as he watched fit men fucking and stroking themselves all over the page. "Oh no," he breathed, his eyes flaring wide. "This was one of the magazines I'd tried to disguise with a Quidditch cover so that Remus and Sirius wouldn't find it," he blurted.

"So, it is yours then?" Draco asked curiously, smiling as Harry nodded, mortification clear on his face. "But it's all men."

"Well, yeah," Harry muttered.

"Is that what you like?" Draco asked, remembering the thrill he'd felt wanking off his Master, even though it wasn't the cock he'd prefer to hold.

"I suppose," Harry mumbled. "I should probably go."

"Wait!" Draco exclaimed before calming himself into his normally stoic mood and pushed the sandwich plate over to Harry. "You haven't eaten yet."

Harry looked at the sandwich and then back up to Draco's sparkling eyes. "Are you sure? You don't think I'm some freaky pervert?"

"Well, I never said that," Draco corrected, "But I find myself minding less than I should."

"Yeah?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Draco answered, snatching the magazine back from Harry and stuffing it under his arm. "That's mine," he reminded the shocked brunet. "You gave it to me."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but instead decided to fill it with the sandwich Draco had kindly made him. "It's good."

"Of course it is," Draco preened and took a bite of his own lunch.

"Your Master left early today," Harry noted when he was nearly finished.

"He got what he wanted," Draco sighed, feeling disgusted with himself.

Harry narrowed his eyes and grabbed Draco's hand, holding it firmly within his own. "Does he hurt you?"

"Sometimes," Draco admitted. "But it's not to be helped. The only way in and out of this Tower is through my own hair, which means others can come and go but I can never leave."

"I don't like him hurting you," Harry growled through gritted teeth.

Draco warmed at Harry's protective tone; feeling cherished enough to dispel the fact that he'd been thoroughly used that same day. So contrasting were the men of his life. Harry was so dark and brooding, but his demeanor was so sweet and innocent, whereas Grindelwald looked like a Cherub but had the heart of a demon.

"You may kiss me if you like," Draco said suddenly, unsure of where the words came from, but knew it was what he wanted the moment they were uttered.

Harry gasped softly and leaned back. "I'm not here for that, Draco. I'm here because I like you."

"Don't you kiss the people you like?" Draco countered, somewhat offended. Did this dark-haired bumpkin not find him attractive?

"I suppose," Harry said, and before he could add more, Draco glowered at him and pressed on.

"But you don't want to kiss me?" he demanded.

"I didn't say that I didn't want to," Harry corrected. "I just don't want you to feel obligated."

"Obligated?! Why would I feel obligated?" Draco hissed.

"It sounds like your Master forces you to do things you don't want to do," Harry reasoned quietly, "and judging by the disheveled state he left the tower today, I assume he pressed his advantage as your caretaker again."

Draco narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. "I do not belong to you, Harry Potter," he snarled. "Don't presume that one visit from your doltish self has me smitten and swooning. Maybe I wanted exactly what my Master asked of me today. Maybe I enjoyed it."

"Maybe," Harry said with a gallant shrug. "Or maybe you were just waiting for this."

And before Draco could ask what 'this' was, Harry was kissing him.

It was nothing like kissing Grindelwald, and Draco nearly pulled away out of spite, only Harry felt too good. His heart was racing in his chest as Harry gripped his hips and guiding his sweet tongue along Draco's bottom lip, nibbling and sucking until Draco's lips parted and allowed him better access. Harry tasted of star fruit and roasted chicken, succulent and tart and completely irresistible.

A low moan vibrated between them and it took a moment before Draco realized it had emanated from his own throat. He found his arms suddenly winding around Harry's waist and their twin erections were pressed together, adding another level of heat to their encounter. All the while, Harry devoured him as if Draco's mouth were the fountain of youth and the key to immortality.

When they broke apart, gasping for breath, Harry refused to release his hold on the blond. "I've never done that before," he admitted, his voice broken and raspy.

"Could have fooled me," Draco sighed, desperately wanting those lips to claim him again but suddenly too shy to ask.

"Do you mind if I practice on you?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

Draco closed his eyes and shook his head, finding his lips immediately covered by Harry's once more. It felt as though his entire body was on fire, like Harry was burning him up from the inside, turning him to ember and ash that he would be somehow be reborn from. At least he hoped. Perhaps Harry was just igniting a slow, deadly fire within him and would leave him there to burn alive.

Suddenly, Draco realized that he didn't know a single thing about this man he'd let into his tower and into his heart, and Draco pulled abruptly away. He panted, desperate for air and a clear head while he ignored Harry's confused stare.

"You're still a stranger to me," Draco explained, not sure what else he could say. He wanted Harry, wanted him so badly, but how was he to lose himself to a stranger when he couldn't even stomach the man who had loved and cared for him his entire life? It felt like a betrayal, and Draco didn't know who he was betraying, which only made it worse.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted, taking several steps back from the blond and tucking his arms under themselves as if he didn't trust himself. "I know I've pushed too far, but I feel like I've known you all my life. I'm sorry if I got carried away."

Draco wanted to tell him that he hadn't, that he had wanted to kiss Harry just as badly, that he could understand what Harry meant, because he too had felt that way. It was as if Harry had always resided in the tower with him, but logically, Draco knew different. This man was a mystery and possibly a danger to his entire way of life.

Instead of relaying any of this, however, Draco just stood there quietly and nodded, letting Harry take all the blame.

"I suppose I should go then," Harry sighed, his eyes dropping to the ground as he turned toward the stairs.

Draco was torn. He didn't want Harry to leave, especially not like this, but he was equally afraid of what would happen if he stayed. So, like a coward, he merely followed Harry to the window, lowering his long braid for Harry to use as a ladder.

"Well, goodbye then," Harry murmured, those brilliant, emerald eyes still averted.

"Will I see you again tomorrow?" Draco asked, ashamed of how much he wanted the answer to be 'yes'.

Harry's face lit up like a _Lumos_ spell and nodded quickly. "Of course," he replied. "I'm at your beck and call."

A shiver ran down Draco's spine and he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Harry's still swollen lips. "Goodnight, Harry," he breathed when they parted, and Harry descended the braid. Part of Draco wanted to call out for the man to come back, but he knew that no good would come of it if he did. It was already too risky for Harry to be visiting; it was reckless to let the raven-haired beauty stay with him too long.

He watched as Harry disappeared into the approaching moonlight, wondering if his wish for a lover and companion had finally come true.

* * *

Draco groaned, long and throaty, his hand wrapped firmly around his pulsing cock. Harry's sexy gift sat unused on the bed beside him, because Draco needed no magazine images to get him off. Just the thought of Harry kissing him with that thick, wet tongue made his fist move faster until he milked ever ounce of fluid from his throbbing erection.

It had been nearly unbearable to let Harry leave the day before, and every moment since he'd spent kicking himself for being so foolish. Still, when a new day dawned, Draco found himself worried about what it would bring. As much as he looked forward to his next encounter with Harry, he was equally concerned about his next encounter with Grindelwald.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. What would come, would come. There was no way of fighting it. He only hoped that it didn't lose him his Harry. He couldn't blame the man if he were completely disgusted by him once he found out.

Just when the dread became nearly too heavy, a dark owl flew through his window and landed on the end of his headboard. Draco scrambled to cover up, as if the bird would judge his naked body. The owl held out a note, and Draco stared at it curiously. Who could have sent it? His heart immediately began to race as he imagined Harry breaking up with him over some sappily written missive, and then reminded himself that he wasn't actually in a relationship with Harry yet and that he hardly even knew the man.

That rationalization didn't help, so he tore into the letter and ignored the owl, which flew away, back through the window and into the afternoon sky.

_My Dearest Draco, _

I'm afraid that a situation has come up and it's forcing me away from you to take care of it. I'll be gone for a fortnight at least, and I didn't want you to worry. You should have more than enough to sustain you until I return, but I know how much you look forward to my daily visits and I know how disappointed you'll be.

_I promise to resume the pace of our newly discovered attraction when I return to you. _

_All my love,_

_Gellert_

Draco nearly sobbed with relief when he saw the signature. It wasn't from Harry at all, but from his imposing Master. As ominous as the ending sounded, Draco couldn't help but be excited. Two long weeks without having to fear what Grindelwald would force him into. Two weeks that he could live carefree and happy with Harry. He knew it was selfish and horrid, but part of him hoped that Grindelwald never returned and that Harry would be able to stay with him forever.

* * *

Harry was smitten. All through breakfast and dueling, he had a consistent smile on his face. It didn't matter how often Sirius teased him, or how many lectures he received from Remus, Harry had fallen and only Draco could catch him.

He was growing anxious toward dinner, wanting to escape into the woods and see Draco again, but his godfather would hear nothing of it. "Not until we talk, Harry," he said, and Harry reluctantly followed Sirius into his study.

They sat by the crackling fire, both silent for a long moment until Sirius looked at him squarely, those blue eyes seeming to bore into his very soul. "Tell me about this boy," he said. "Do you love him?"

Harry bit sharply into his bottom lip. He'd been thinking of the captive blond without fail since he'd first heard that enchanting voice on the wind. Still, he'd been trying very hard not to think of it in those terms. Could he be in love with this man that he hardly knew? Draco was lovely, more than that, he was amazing, but that was attraction alone. And when he was around, Harry wanted to be constantly kissing him, and more…oh so much more. In fact, Harry had a hard time concealing how much he wanted the sweet prisoner. But that, at best, was merely lust.

But then beneath all of that, at the very core of his being, Harry knew there was something more. He felt a kinship with the blond, a pull that he couldn't rationally explain. And deep down, he knew what that meant, even though he'd never felt it before. "I think I do, yeah," he answered at last.

"I thought so," Sirius sighed, already feeling as though he was losing Harry, his prodigy, his son. "I just need you to promise me, Harry, promise me you'll be careful."

Harry laughed. "We haven't done anything…sexual, if that's what you're getting at."

Sirius coughed and flushed a deep red that matched quite well with the ornate jacket he was donning that evening. "No, that wasn't was I was talking about, but that's a good point, Son. You should be careful there too."

"Oh, you mean Draco's keeper?" Harry corrected, his own cheeks tinged with pink from embarrassment. "I'm perfectly cautious there as well," he assured.

"All good things, Harry, but no. I was referring to being careful with your heart," Sirius explained.

"My heart?" Harry repeated, somewhat befuddled.

"Love is a fire, Harry, but whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell," Sirius advised. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Harry beamed at his godfather and flung against him in a warm embrace. "I'll be fine, Sirius," Harry assured. "I promise. Besides, anything worth perusing has some risk involved, right?"

Sirius thought back to the day he finally confessed his feelings to Remus. His reputation preceded him those days, but despite the fact he'd had plenty of experience, that day, his belly was a bundle of nerves. Remus Lupin had been his friend, his best friend, and he had no idea whether the wolfish man had ever considered him in a romantic light. Not to mention, knowing Sirius' past, Remus was likely to think it was all a grand prank. Luckily, his friend seemed to feel the same, and today they were as happy as ever. Sirius could only hope Harry could find love as easy and as pure as he had with his husband.

Before Sirius could say another word, Harry was waving from the door, eager to get to his tower-bound love.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, two parts left and lots still to happen. Luckily, the next two chapters are quite long.


	17. Rapunzel: Part 4

Author's Note: Many thanks to Deb for her beta work and thanks to all who have reviewed so far.

Part 4

"Impossible!" Draco shouted, shaking his head in dismay.

"It's not impossible," Harry chuckled, straddling the back of an ornate wooden chair. "I've been able to do it as long as I can remember."

"Prove it then," Draco challenged, his face set in defiance. "Go on."

With a smug grin, Harry concentrated on the mug of hot chocolate in Draco's hands and snapped his fingers. Without hesitation the mug flew from Draco's tight grip and landed in Harry's outstretched hand, leaving a gaping blond in its wake. With another wave of his fingers, Harry cleaned up the chocolate drink that had splashed on the floorboards.

"Told you," Harry gloated.

"Harry, that's brilliant. Grindelwald told me that magic couldn't be done without a wand!" Draco exclaimed, his eyes still locked on his stolen drink.

"Maybe _he_ can't do it, or maybe he just doesn't want you to learn how," Harry suggested.

"He _can_ be rather stingy with his knowledge sometimes. Once I saw him cast a spell that made a smoky dragon erupt from the tip of his wand and fly off out the window and he refused to show me how he did it," Draco muttered, a slight pout to those succulent lips.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted, giving his eleven-inch holly a flick. A brilliant white stag flew from his wand and galloped around Draco, the blond watching with a fascinated grin.

"That's it! Only his was a dragon," Draco commented, reaching out to touch the glowing animal. His hand went right through it like a puff of air and he laughed.

"This is my Patronus," Harry explained. "Everyone's is different."

"Could you teach me?" Draco asked, and Harry stood, moving to close the distance between them.

"It would be my pleasure," Harry whispered and the stag disappeared as he stepped up behind Draco. One hand on the blond's slender hip and the other on his wand hand, Harry directed Draco's movements and taught him the incantation.

"You have to picture something that makes you happy and hold it in your mind," Harry breathed against the blond's ear and for some reason Draco didn't think that would be very hard.

A shudder ran through Harry's body as Draco did as Harry instructed and a thin wisp of smoke erupted from Draco's wand. It flew around the room; clearly trying to form into something more solid looking, but it eventually fizzled out.

"Excellent," Harry praised. "Let's try again."

They worked on it all afternoon, Harry a patient teacher and Draco an eager student, until finally, the smoke wasn't smoke at all.

"Brilliant, Draco!" Harry commended as a pearly white dove flew across the tower room after Harry's stag and landed happily on its antlers. With a laugh, Draco sent it diving through the window and watched as it dipped and spun in the night sky. "Even your Patronus wants to be free of this place," Harry whispered.

"I wish it were that easy," Draco murmured, watching as his Patronus flew into the wards and puffed out of existence. "To just fly away and never look back."

"One day," Harry promised, lacing his fingers through the blond's.

"You should probably get back, hm? Sirius and Remus must be worried sick," Draco sighed.

Harry supposed Draco was right, but he was still loath to leave the man's side. "I'll be back tomorrow," he assured the blond.

"I know." With a weak smile, Draco let his hair grow out into the long, blond stair that Harry would need to descend the tall tower and with a heavy heart, Harry left his love up in the tower, wishing he could stay.

* * *

A week flew by, in which every day saw Harry climbing up Draco's golden braid in the morning and leaving again late that night. They talked about everything from Quidditch and magic to their messy childhoods. From Draco's feelings about Grindelwald, to Harry's admiration of his godparents' loving relationship. Every evening found the men more and more reluctant to part, until one night, they simply lingered at the window, staring out at the stars, neither making that final move to say goodnight.

"It's a beautiful night out," Draco commented, his hair still platinum and perfect but far too short to use as a ladder.

"I wish I could take you flying with me," Harry whispered. "Nights like these, it's like swimming in diamonds."

"Grindelwald would never allow it." Draco's voice and heart were filled with regret at the statement as he stared out and yearned for the same thing. Another week's time would see Grindelwald ascending the tower once more, his lust for Draco renewed. He nearly shuddered at the thought.

"Do you love him, this Keeper of yours?" Harry asked, because he'd heard much about Draco's prison guard, but never got a true gauge of the blond's feelings for his captor.

"I suppose, although, I do not enjoy him as he wishes I would," Draco admitted. "He wants to take me as a lover, but I can't see him that way."

Harry nearly sighed with relief but his body tensed, a new concern flooding into his mind. "Has he…forced himself upon you?"

"Twice now," Draco admitted reluctantly. He hoped that his time with Harry had steeled the man into more that just his friend, but he didn't want to lose these nightly talks with him because of his tumultuous relationship with Grindelwald. Surely Harry understood by now that Draco was dependant on his Master, and that he had to do as asked. "Though, nothing too dramatic," he added at Harry's shocked and angry expression. "He's pressed me for a kiss and I…well, I wanked him once."

"And you didn't enjoy it?" Harry asked, wincing along with the blond.

"I wanted him to be someone else," Draco whispered, and Harry remained silent, waiting to hear whom that someone was, but the words never came.

Instead, Draco sighed and leaned against Harry's chest, sinking into the warmth as those strong arms wrapped around him, tugging him closer. He could feel the hot puff of Harry's breath on his neck and the sweet smell of exotic vanilla assaulting his senses. This was how he would spend every night if he could.

"Stay with me," he blurted, gripping Harry's arms as if he expected to be shoved away. "Just for tonight," he amended when Harry remained silent.

"Whatever you want, Draco," Harry breathed, nibbling the edge of his earlobe and sending quivering shudders straight through to Draco's groin.

Draco turned in Harry's grasp and crashed his lips into Harry's, plundering the mouth he now knew as well as his own. Moans vibrated through them both as Draco's hands snaked beneath Harry's jumper to caress the smooth flesh beneath, Harry's firm grip on his arse keeping him locked tightly against him.

This was normally when one of the men would come to their senses and douse a cool bucket of reality on top of the other, but there were sparks in the air tonight, fires that refused to be extinguished, and neither of the men seemed to be trying very hard to fight against their attraction.

Flames licked inside Draco's gut, swirling and flaring until it felt like he might explode with want. His eyes shut, his head leaned back and Harry licking a hot path down his neck didn't help matters. Clumsily he led Harry to the bed, delighting in the new sparkle to those shining, emerald eyes as Harry watched Draco slowly undress himself.

He made it a show, even though his knees were trembling like leaves in autumn. Button after button revealed a new expanse of creamy white flesh and Harry sat on the edge of Draco's bed, completely transfixed. Draco smiled as Harry's fingers twitched, as if itching to finish the job himself. He stopped, and beckoned Harry over with a single crooked finger, and Harry all but leapt forward, eagerly capturing Draco's lips again.

Warm fingers found their way to Draco's trouser clasp and then under the edges of his pants, where one firm pull would send the vestiges of his clothing pooling to the floor. Harry groaned his desire into Draco's open lips, his erection pressed hard against the blond's pale thigh. "May I?" he asked, like a true gentleman, and Draco nodded, shuddering as he found himself utterly naked in front of his raven-haired love.

"Your turn," he breathed, and Harry smiled against his cheek before pulling away just far enough to lift the jumper over his head and shimmy out of his own denims. When they connected again, it was like fireworks. Flesh on flesh, hands roaming, cocks rutting, lips crashing, all seemed to leave the men intoxicated and they flopped into bed, tangled together.

Draco didn't think that anything could feel any better than this, until Harry's hand found its way between his thighs and grasped his weeping prick. He made all kinds of unintelligible noises while Harry stroked him, spreading slickness with his thumb with every pass over Draco's leaking head. Although none of that – as amazing as it was – could compare to the moment Harry leaned down and swiped his wide tongue over the slit, tasting Draco for the first time.

After that, the ebony-locked god seemed insatiable. He mouthed Draco's cock, taking it deeper and deeper with each new swipe of his tongue, and long after Draco came, hot and thick down Harry's throat, he still seemed to crave more. Draco had to shove him away from his over-sensitive bits, but that only made Harry flip him hungrily over.

Draco squeaked when Harry's fingers first delved into the cleft of his arse, but nothing could have prepared him for what came next. Harry's tongue followed suit, lapping a hot trail where his fingers had been until he reached Draco's puckered entrance.

Writhing and squirming beneath him, Draco cried out as Harry's tongue-lashing brought his erection back in vengeance, forcing him to grind against he mattress in blissful agony. The last time Draco wanked, he'd thrust an experimental finger into his waiting hole, but that was nothing compared to feeling Harry's firm tongue pressing inside of him, tasting him, devouring everything he was. Draco was completely bared and vulnerable, and Harry wasn't turning away. He was holding him close and accepting all that Draco was with loving arms, and tongue and cock.

"More," Draco groaned, unable to take it any longer.

Harry obliged, slipping a mysteriously slicked finger where his tongue had recently vacated. Draco arched and hissed against the burn, even though he'd expected it. Harry pulled away and Draco had to grab his hand, guiding it back in place. "It's fine," he promised. "Please don't stop."

"I don't want to hurt you," Harry breathed, swallowing thickly. Draco could tell it took effort for Harry to force himself away, his eyes were clouded with lust and desire.

"I'm okay, I promise," Draco replied, trying to keep his face set in a reassuring mask.

Harry looked reluctant, but eventually shifted Draco to his back, feeling better if he could watch his lover's face as he made love to the gloriously pale man below him. Slowly, too slowly if you asked Draco, Harry caressed the man's chest, hips, thighs and purposefully ignored the aching cock, twitching for attention.

A devious grin crept across Harry's face and in that moment, Draco realized that there would never be another person that could sate him the same way. Draco loved Harry's silly jokes, his playful nature, his serious outlook on the future and this wild streak of evil that occasionally turned up as a manic glint in his brilliant green eyes or the smile he wore now.

He loved Harry, and this realization brought his world crashing down around him like a burning pyre. "Harry," he rasped, sounding a bit whinier than he would have liked, but it felt like now or never, "I love you."

Harry's smirk faded abruptly as the words sunk into his lust-addled brain. "You…what?"

"I'm not saying that you have to return the sentiment of course, or anything like that, I just…thought you should know. That's all," he rambled and crushed Harry's entire being. Even if Harry hadn't already known he was arse over elbows in love with the blond prat, those words would have done him in.

"I love you too," he whispered, pinning Draco to the mattress possessively.

"Are you just saying that so that you can shag me, because I would have allowed that without any professions of love," Draco continued rambling adorably.

"Willing to give it up to anyone, hm?" Harry teased and Draco flushed deeply.

"That's not what I meant!" he insisted. "I'm a virgin for Merlin's sake. I just meant that I love you, and that's enough for me. I don't need you to lie and say that you love me back just so you can sleep with me," he over-explained. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to continue, but Harry kissed him instead, wiping away whatever it was Draco might have said.

"Does that feel like someone who isn't in love with you?" Harry asked when they parted for air. "I'm besotted," he added with a cheeky grin. Draco just rolled his eyes and kissed Harry again to cover his own romantic flush.

Harry's hands continued roaming over Draco's heated flesh, grazing the hard nubs of his nipples and trailing lower and lower until he connected with the straining cocks between them. Encircling them both, Harry began stroking, losing himself in the feel of Draco's velvety flesh pressed so firmly against his own.

"I want you," Draco gasped out, "inside of me." Draco's eyes were shut tight, his bottom lip sucked deliciously between his perfect teeth. "Now!" he demanded when Harry was too mesmerized to comply.

He chuckled darkly in response and left off the delicious friction long enough to align himself with Draco's tight entrance again. "Tell me to stop if it hurts."

Draco only answered with a frustrated moan as he tried to relax and wait out Harry's seemingly endless patience. His legs were bent up, the pads of his feet resting against Harry's shoulders while Harry pushed forward with excruciating slowness. It burned as Draco stretched wider and wider to take all of him, inch by smooth inch; Draco began to feel full – complete for the first time.

He clenched experimentally around the perfect intrusion, grinning smugly as Harry hissed and threw his head back. "You're so fucking tight, Draco. I don't know how long I'll last."

"Just move," Draco demanded and Harry did, snapping his hips back and driving them forward again more quickly than he'd planned.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, his body still shuddering from the wonderful feel of it.

Draco was still too frazzled from the movement to respond. Somehow, when Harry had thrust forward, he'd managed to slip across the most delicious spot inside of him. It curled his toes and made his cock twitch and his throat produce a hungry groan.

Suddenly Harry felt a bit more confident, and what's more, wanted to hear more noises like that from his beautiful lover, so he repeated the movement again. And again. And again, until Draco was keening and writhing at every thrust.

In his distraction, Harry realized he'd neglected Draco's poor cock and sought to rectify that injustice, stroking it in turn with each pounding movement. Harry was close, and one touch to Draco's weeping prick had made him clench down in response, making it that much harder to hold out. Then suddenly, Draco shifted and sat up, driving Harry impossibly deeper, and kissed him.

The sensation was too much and Harry toppled over the edge of bliss as he thrust his tongue into Draco's mouth and his cock into the blond's eager arse simultaneously. He came with a shout, pulling his mouth away from Draco's only to bite down roughly into the man's pale shoulder.

He hadn't even registered Draco's orgasm until he noticed his hand and chest coated in the other man's release. He felt mildly regretful that he hadn't been coherent enough to witness the blond's climax and silently vowed to stay more alert next time. The feel of Draco bearing down on him, consuming him with their twin flame had just been too much for Harry and he'd gotten lost in it.

"That was…spectacular," Draco sighed, unhindered by Harry's prone body collapsed on top of him.

"_You _were spectacular," Harry corrected, pressing a wet kiss against Draco's temple.

"Well, I'm always spectacular, but you were pretty fucking amazing yourself," Draco preened.

Harry chuckled and rolled off of Draco's chest with an 'oof', wincing as a cool breeze assaulted his spent cock. "So, Draco Malfoy, I don't suppose you'd like to do that again sometime?" he asked, a cheeky grin on his face to hide his eagerness.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "I could be persuaded."

Harry's finger's sought Draco's platinum blond hair, embedding them into the perfect strands and using his leverage to pull Draco closer. Gently he nibbled at the blond's lips before darting his tongue inside the velvety cavern of Draco's mouth, eliciting a moan from that pale throat. When they broke apart, chests heaving for air, Draco stared over at Harry lovingly dazed. "Consider me persuaded," he sighed and Harry grinned broadly.

"Do you still want me to stay the night?" he asked, and Draco nodded without hesitation.

Harry wasted no time snuggling deep under the covers with his lover pulled tightly against his chest. His arms wound around Draco's slighter form, one gripping his hip and the other caressing his chest. Draco pressed back, wiggling his arse against Harry's renewed erection and causing the man to mutter indignantly.

"If you keep that up, no one is getting any sleep," he grumbled, thrusting into Draco's crack.

"Mmm," he sighed and ground against it again, moaning when Harry's hand trailed from his slender hip to Draco's own erection.

Sleep was suddenly the furthest thing from either of the men's minds.

* * *

Harry woke up shivering, one side of his body icy cold and the other side like a furnace. His eyes opened and took in his surroundings, feeling momentarily disoriented until he saw the sweet face of his slumbering lover beside him. Draco was cocooned inside all the bed linens, curled up in a tight, warm ball against Harry's chest.

"You _would_ be a blanket monger," he whispered to the sleeping blond.

Draco stirred, yawning slightly as he rolled over and opened his eyes, piercing gray orbs locking onto Harry's. "Hullo," he whispered, covering his mouth with some of his blanket.

Harry chuckled and pulled the blanket back so that he could kiss his lover. Not even morning breath could deter him. Draco made a face but eventually relented, sinking into the kiss with very little encouragement. It was nice waking up in Harry's arms and he could easily imagine doing so every day.

"You stole all the covers," Harry accused with a pout when they finally decided to stop snogging and breathe for a moment. "My arse is freezing."

"Well, let me help you with that," Draco offered, leaning over to rub his hands over Harry's frigid flesh. Harry moaned and Draco chuckled and felt a mild twinge in his arse from their vigorous activities the night before. Not once, but twice the men had woken up to find the other hard and ready for more. Never had Draco felt so insatiable, but he couldn't seem to get enough of his beautiful raven-haired man.

Still, his tender arse protested another round so soon, so Draco backed off and stared up into his lover's smoldering eyes. "I haven't shared my bed with anyone since I was a small child," Draco whispered, "but I could get used to waking up with you, Harry."

The mention of Draco's childhood brought back the chilly reminder that this wasn't supposed to last. Any day now, Grindelwald would return and lay his claim on Draco, sending Harry to either pine after the blond or share him in secret. He didn't know which sounded worse, losing his Draco altogether or having to know that he was sleeping with someone else as well.

"I don't want you to fuck him!" Harry blurted, overwhelmed with jealousy.

"What? Who?" Draco asked, completely befuddled.

"Grindelwald, of course," Harry snapped. "I want you to be mine and mine alone."

Draco's face softened into a sad smile. "You know I have no choice, Harry. I love you but I can never truly belong to anyone but him. He's my father, my family, my protector," he whispered. "And when he returns, he'll want to be my lover, and I can't deny him anything."

"Can't or won't?" Harry demanded, his eyes flaming with such anger that Draco shifted away.

"That's not fair, Harry," he sighed. "Grindelwald is my Master. Until I can leave this tower, I must give him whatever he asks of me."

"Then I'll steal you," Harry said resolutely. "I'll take you away from here and we'll hide from him. Together."

"You're a romantic fool, Harry," Draco whispered, shaking his head in dismay, "And I love you."

Harry pounced, pulling Draco to him in a tight embrace. "I love you too, Draco, and I'm going to find a way to save you."

Draco kissed his beautiful Harry and lost himself in the moment, allowing himself to pretend that he believed the promises of his love. He could imagine a life with Harry. A cottage and a garden and the glorious flights they would take all over the world. He could fantasize about waking up in his strong arms and making love to him every morning. All of this he let himself picture without ruining it with harsh truth. Because deep down, Draco knew it would always be just a dream, and that wherever they ran, Grindelwald would follow until Harry's blood covered the ground and Draco was his captive once more.

His time with Harry was slowly coming to an end, and Draco would make the most of what time he had left. He could only imagine what wrath he would meet when Grindelwald returned and found Draco's virginity spoiled.

"I'm yours," he promised the dark-haired man kissing him desperately; even if they both knew it was a lie. "I'll always be yours."

Author's Note: *sigh* This is swiftly becoming my favorite of the fairytales so far. Next chapter…Grindelwald's return.


	18. Rapunzel: Part 5

Author's Note: A thousand thanks to Deb for not only requesting this story, but also doing the beta work on it. Also, snogs to all who have reviewed the story, or any of the other twisted fairytales within. This story has been my favorite to write so far.

Part 5

Harry lounged languidly in Draco's arms, the fact that he had to leave filled him with anxiety but he was determined to enjoy these last few moments at his lover's side. Draco made that easy, his fingers drawing slow, sensual shapes along Harry's back. He couldn't get enough of the blond's touches or kisses or delicious heat. He had no idea what he was going to do until he was able to see Draco again.

Harry had only been home once and briefly over the last week and that was only to tell Sirius that he'd be with Draco. Otherwise, the pair was inseparable. It had been a nonstop stream of magic, fucking, eating, fucking, listening to Draco play various instruments while thinking about fucking. Hell, they'd made excellent use of nearly every surface in the tower, always knowing this day would come but trying to ignore its looming presence.

"I don't want you to go," Draco whispered.

"I don't want to either, trust me, but if I have any chance of getting you out of here before Grindelwald returns, I need to leave for a little while," Harry sighed, the sound turning feral as his fingers were drawn into a hot, wet mouth.

"Is there nothing I could do to keep you here?" Draco purred around the slicked digits.

"You're evil," Harry hissed, grinding his erection against Draco's thigh.

Draco chuckled and straddled the dark-haired man, working the fingers in his mouth the same way his talented tongue often worked Harry's cock. Emerald eyes rolled back into Harry's skull as the sensation tugged at things much lower than his fingers. He imagined those perfect lips disappearing around his erection, engulfing it and swallowing him down. The vision brought a low gurgle to his throat, making the blond chuckle darkly. Draco would never admit it aloud, but he loved the effect he had on the glorious man in his bed, and part of him worried that if Harry left now, Draco might never get to see him again.

He fully expected his Master to take him as his own when he returned, no matter how much of a protest Draco put up. Harry couldn't possibly continue to love him after that. He could clearly see the pain in those gemstone eyes at the mere mention of Grindelwald's name.

And just seeing Harry sprawled beneath him, his ebony locks contrasting sharply on Draco's sage pillows, it was all he could do not to chain him up and demand he stay. "Fuck me, Harry," he moaned instead. "One last time."

Harry groaned, his eyes snapping open to find Draco staring back at him with fires blazing behind that shining gray gaze. It was so intoxicating that it took him a moment to register the weight of Draco's words. Harry snarled and flipped the blond over, glaring menacingly at that beautiful, pale face. "No. This isn't our last time together. I'm coming back for you."

Draco sighed, recognizing the stubbornness that Harry was likely known for back home. After only a few weeks together, Draco knew Harry's moods better than his own now. He pouted, a look he knew Harry would have trouble resisting, but Harry merely turned away.

"I'm serious, Draco," he continued, pulling away from his lover and stalking from the bed to get dressed. "We'll have the rest of our lives to shag, because you belong to me. Not him!"

The searing anger in Harry's voice cut through Draco like a knife and all he could do was nod. How could he argue with this perfect man, this brilliant wizard who wanted him so badly? He couldn't, because only Draco knew the cunning wrath of his Master and the penalty they'd pay if Grindelwald caught Draco trying to sneak out on him. Never before had Draco even been willing to chance it, but for Harry, Draco would do anything.

"A kiss then," Draco bargained. "And then you have to promise to hurry back to me."

Harry's face softened at once and he pulled Draco close, nuzzling the soft blond hair that was already growing into a fair, platinum plait. "I love you," Harry whispered, not even knowing how such a thing could be true, but he knew it with his very soul. "And I promise to be quick. I won't leave you alone to face that monster."

He didn't wait for Draco to respond, he didn't need to. He knew Draco's feelings ran as deeply as his own, that was clear enough in the passion with which Draco clung to him, kissing him so deeply that Harry didn't think he'd ever be rid of the flavor – not that he wanted to.

"Hurry," Draco said when they pulled apart. He led Harry to the window and lowered his braid for Harry for what he deeply hoped wouldn't be the last time. Trying not to show his mounting concern, he offered Harry a brave smile and watched as Harry slowly descended to the ground and ran off into the woods.

* * *

"I need a ladder!" Harry shouted the moment he broke the threshold of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes. If anyone could whip up a masterful escape plan for his lover, it was the Weasley twins.

"Metal, wood, rope or candy?" called back one of the ginger-headed twins. Harry couldn't tell which one it was yet.

"Candy ladder? Really?" Harry balked, momentarily deterred from his task by the absurdity. "How would that even be useful?"

The man, George he suspected, shrugged. "We don't ask questions, Harry. You'd be surprised what kinds of things people want to order in edible form."

A thought came to mind involving Draco and chocolate knickers and he filed that information away for later and got back to business. "It needs to be lightweight, because I'm going to have to carry it without magic. And tall, at least twenty stories."

George – or was it Fred? – pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "Harry, what kind of mischief are you planning?"

"I thought you said you didn't ask questions?" Harry countered and the twin grinned brightly.

"Right you are, mate." And with that, the redhead disappeared into the back while Harry waited impatiently in the lobby.

"I've got a couple options," the man called back after awhile, "but nothing long enough. I'll have to modify one of these to work for you."

"How long?" Harry shouted back, making his way through whirring displays until he found the man eyeing three long rope ladders.

"A few hours," George yelled, wincing along with Harry as he realized the brunet stood right behind him.

Harry sighed but nodded, cursing himself for not doing this sooner. The thought had only just occurred to him a couple days before and Draco was so very persuasive in his ability to keep Harry melted to his side. "The quicker the better," he said and left the shop, heading to his own cottage where he planned to fill Sirius and Remus in on his plan. Harry knew that he and Draco would be on the run for some time if – when, he silently amended in his head – his plan worked. He didn't want his godparents to worry too much if Harry disappeared for a while.

He checked his watch and noted the time, nearly noon, and figured he'd give George until dinner to finish the task. He was anxious to get back to Draco because they had no idea how much more time they had before Grindelwald returned.

* * *

Not much time, it turned out.

It wasn't an hour after Harry departed that Draco heard a sound below and rushed to the window, wondering if Harry had forgotten something. "That was quick!" he shouted out in a teasing voice, which faltered the moment his eyes set on his glowering Master.

"Quick? Are you trying to tell me you didn't miss me?" Grindelwald called back up.

"No, not at all!" Draco amended. "I missed you terribly. I was only being sarcastic, my Lord."

"Ah. Well, don't make a habit of it, hm?" the blond man called up. "Now, Draco, my Draco, let down your blond hair, so that I may climb your golden stair."

Draco took a deep, shuddering breath and did as he was told. Even the lowering of his braid felt like a betrayal of his Harry, what was he going to do when Grindelwald demanded more? He swallowed thickly and bit into his lip in determination. He belonged to Harry now. Grindelwald couldn't have him, even if he had to die to prove it, he would.

The moment Grindelwald stepped into the tower chambers, his nose lifted to the air, sniffing harshly. "It smells like sex in here."

Draco flushed and glanced away, stepping back to put as much distance between him and Grindelwald as possible. "I don't know what you mean. It smells the same as always. You've just been away too long."

Grindelwald's eyes narrowed into slits as he scanned the bedchamber for anything unordinary. When nothing seemed out of place, his face softened and he took in Draco's anxious expression. "Have you been wanking, Draco?"

"You caught me," Draco admitted quickly, trying to look suitably admonished.

"Well then," Grindelwald replied smoothly, stalking closer to his prey, "It seems you might be ready to continue our lessons."

"I'm very eager to learn, Master, but could we pick up tomorrow? I'm a little…spent," Draco tried, glancing down at the limp bulge in his trousers.

"No worries, I can fix that." The stalking blond wizard gave a little wave of his wand and Draco felt his cock twitch to life.

"That's cheating," Draco huffed.

"I enjoy cheating, Draco, you should know that about your master," Grindelwald purred and Draco didn't think the man knew exactly what he was saying. He didn't think his Master would enjoy the knowledge that Draco had been cheating on him for the past fortnight.

Grindelwald stood in front of him, his massive dragon hide boots lodged between Draco's trembling thighs. He leaned in for a kiss, and Draco turned his head. "I haven't brushed my teeth yet today," Draco lied.

"You smell fine," Grindelwald said, and guided Draco's face back to his own. The man kissed Draco, rough lips and chin stubble grating against Draco's face, but his captive refused to kiss him back. He just stood there, accepting the kiss with as little enthusiasm as possible. "Draco. What's going on?" Grindelwald demanded.

"I just…I just don't want to do this," Draco admitted, hoping that Grindelwald's love for him might spare his life.

"Strip," the man ordered, his face set into a growling glare.

"What?" The sound was more of a squeak than an actual word.

"You heard me. Disrobe this instant," Grindelwald repeated angrily.

Draco scrambled to obey, his entire body shaking as he moved to undress. With trembling fingers, Draco removed the last article of clothing and tossed it to the ground before staring back at his keeper defiantly. He refused to let the man humiliate him.

At once the love bites left behind by Harry's mouth were clearly visible and Grindelwald snarled his displeasure into the air. "Who have you been letting into my tower and into your bed?"

"No one," Draco replied solidly.

"Liar!" Grindelwald shouted, smacking Draco across the face with the back of his ringed hand. Draco's palm went immediately to his jaw, already stinging and hot. "Tell me who you've been fucking!"

"No."

The refusal was quiet, yet firm, and Grindelwald raged against it. "Was it a woman?" The older wizard smelled the air, getting down on his knees he examined his ward's cock before flipping him around and staring at Draco's flushed and swollen entrance. "No. It seems you've betrayed me with a man."

Draco whimpered as the fingers digging into his thigh dug deeper, painfully slicing his flesh with sharply groomed nails. He felt only a moment of relief when those fingers left him and moved to his round arse cheeks, spreading them agonizingly wide.

"Bend over," Grindelwald ordered in a soft, terrifying tone, but Draco shook his head.

The older wizard grabbed Draco's braid and wound it tightly in his hand as he stood back up. With a sharp tug, he pulled Draco's naked body against him with a cry and whispered menacingly into the boy's ear. "You will not disobey me ever again. I will kill the man who ruined you for me, and I will make you wish you'd died as well." Tears streamed down Draco's cheeks, caught by Grindelwald's tongue. "Delicious."

A sharp sob rang out as Draco was bent roughly over his dressing table, his arse lifted and exposed to Grindelwald's pleasure. "Please, don't do this, Master. I love you, don't do this."

The man faltered for a moment, his hand turning from a biting grip to a tender caress. "How many times was he inside of you, Draco? Once? Twice perhaps?" Draco's only answer was a choked cry and Grindelwald's touch grew painful again as he rounded the globes of Draco's arse and delved his fingers into the tender crack. "I suppose I'll learn how many times you let him enter you the hard way. You gave him something that was not yours to give, Draco. You belong to me, and I'll make sure you never forget that."

"No!" Draco shouted as three dry fingers breached his entrance at once. "I belong to Harry!"

"Harry is it?!" Grindelwald growled. "So, it's Harry that has stolen your precious virginity and loosened you so?"

Draco tried to writhe away from the intrusion, but Grindelwald's hold on his braid wouldn't allow it. A forth finger penetrated him and Draco cried out in pain, his unprepared hole trying to shove the digits back out. "You're hardly worth it any longer," Grindelwald spat. "I was so looking forward to pounding that tight, virgin arse, but you've adapted too well to being filled."

"Please stop," Draco sobbed as Grindelwald assaulted him. "Please."

With a mighty shove, Grindelwald sent Draco toppling to the floor. Darkly hissed Latin filled his ears as he inched closer and closer to the window. With a mighty slash, Grindelwald's wand cut through the air and chopped Draco's magical braid from his head, nicking his exposed throat in the process. His hands went up to it and came away with blood, making his gray eyes widen in shock.

Grindelwald stared at his ward, spoiled and ruined at his feet. He dove into the boy's mind and stole any information he might need to use against this Harry. It seemed the task ahead was only too easy. Harry would be back on his own accord, no need to lure him.

"It's not deadly," Grindelwald scoffed at Draco's horrified expression. Pain was rarely something Grindelwald was forced to inflict on the boy and he wondered if Draco had ever seen his own pure blood before. "No, death would be too good for a liar and a cheat such as yourself. I gave you food, clothing, protection. Everything you could dream of or want was delivered on a silver platter, and you have the gall to deny me? To sneak around behind my back and betray me with another?" Grindelwald paced the circular room as he spoke, his hand still clutched around the severed blond braid.

How would he allow Harry up to him without his braid? Draco nearly laughed aloud at the thought. Harry was a distant dream now, lost to him forever. But perhaps there was still a chance, however small, that he could still somehow get away. Only, it was too far to fall.

"What are you going to do to me, Master?" Draco asked, trying to make his body seem as appealing as possible in his prone position on the floor. If he could only get close enough, perhaps Draco could strike out and inflict some pain before he died.

Grindelwald narrowed his eyes, his wand twitching in his hand. "I should tie you up and make you watch as I lure your lover up here and murder him."

Renewed determination helped him to stand on wobbling legs, inching his way to the window. Suddenly Draco feared for Harry's life more than his own. "No," he pleaded. "Please leave Harry alone. I'm yours, Master. All yours."

"You realized that too late," Grindelwald snarled, and rope shot from the tip of his wand, winding around Draco's wrists.

It was now or never, Draco realized and he ran with all his might, leaping through the still open window, the air cool against his naked, sweaty flesh. He felt a momentary thrill of freedom, but the bindings held tight and he soon found himself crashing against the side of the tower wall, knocking all the air from his lungs. He was only a few feet from the ground and dangling, but when he looked up, Grindelwald was at the sill, glaring down at him as he moved to pull Draco back up. Draco wiggled and squirmed until he was eventually free, falling the remaining distance to the gravel below.

His knees were bloody and raw, he had no clothes and no wand, but Draco ran, ignoring his name as it was screamed into the wind at his back. He ran as fast as he could away from the tower and away from Grindelwald. Trying to remember which way he'd seen Harry go, Draco followed bramble-covered paths, hoping to find his love before it was too late.

* * *

The tower window was dark when Harry returned and he worried that Draco might be asleep and not hear his call. He tried anyway, and was pleasantly surprised when the long, blond braid fell down the side for him to climb up.

Rope ladder strapped to his back, Harry climbed Draco's hair, eager to see his love once more. It had been excruciating being away from him, worried that Grindelwald might return, but the silken hair in his hands relieved all his stress and he realized he had no reason for concern.

All relief drained out of him to be replaced with dread the moment he reached the windowsill and saw that the braid wasn't attached to Draco at all, but a chair with a sticking charm. Part of him screamed to flee, fly back down the braid and put the tower and Grindelwald behind him, because he had no doubt as to who had set this trap for him. But Harry wasn't one to back down from a duel, especially if Draco could still be up there, bound and imprisoned by his madman captor.

He only hoped Draco was still okay.

"Draco," he called out, hoping for some sign and playing ignorant for his attacker. He found it easier to fight someone when they underestimated him. "Draco, where are you?"

"Here for my ward?" called a sickeningly sweet voice from the shadows. Harry could only make out a mess of blond curls, almost as bright as Draco's, and piercing violet eyes.

"Is he your ward?" Harry asked nonchalantly as he slowly slipped his hand into his pocket for his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Grindelwald shouted, sending Harry's wand clattering to the ground far below. "We'll have none of that. I know that you are fully aware of who I am to Draco. I read his mind before I sent him falling to his death."

"Liar!" Harry shouted, leaping from the windowsill to the floorboards of Draco's chamber like a graceful bird. "You lie."

"Check for yourself. Can you sense him here?" Grindelwald purred. "You're a wizard, you should be able to feel his magic."

Harry reached out, sending his own magic into every nook and every cranny of the tower, each time he came up empty. "What have you done with him?" Harry snarled.

"I told you. He fell from the tower window," Grindelwald mocked.

"There was no body on the ground," Harry reasoned.

"It would have been foolish of me to leave it there for you to find," the dark wizard hissed. "And despite what you and Draco thought, I'm _not_ foolish."

"Yes you are," Harry snarled. "Otherwise you would have killed me instead of merely stealing my wand." With a flick of his hand, Harry sent the older wizard flying across the room, crashing into the wall with a mighty thud.

"Powerful," the wizard coughed, clutching his side as he moved to stand up. "You're more powerful than even my Draco realized."

"He. Is. Mine," Harry snarled, launching a flaming ball of energy from his fingertips. It fizzled to steaming air just before it hit Grindelwald, his wand aloft to counter the spell.

Right before Harry's eyes, the air seemed to shimmer around the older wizard and fair flesh fell away to reveal shining purple scales as Grindelwald shifted into a dragon. Draco had mentioned that his Master's Patronus was a dragon form, but he'd never mentioned this. Perhaps Grindelwald's Animagus form was just one more thing he'd kept from his young ward.

"_Was_ yours," Grindelwald correct with a snuffling roar. "Now he can belong to no one. Pity too, he was so lovely. But you, Harry you and I could be great together. With my wisdom and your power, we could conquer the world."

The dragon's offer purred along Harry's skin, trying to tempt him with magic laced through his words, but Harry shook it off.

"Sod off," Harry growled, slashing the air with his hand and grinning wildly when gashes formed through Grindelwald's scaly belly and blood began to seep from the wounds. The dragon reared up, crashing through the ceiling and opening Draco's chambers to the stars. A mighty roar escaped the beast, slowly disintegrating into a thready gasp as the dragon shifted to human form again. Harry stared down at the dying man, naked and vulnerable and he wished Draco could have been there to see that his Master wasn't so all-powerful after all. "You lost any chance of bargaining with me the moment you touched Draco. But no worries," Harry seethed as he glared down at the bleeding wizard. "You really had no chance of that from the start."

Grindelwald gurgled, his life fleeing right before Harry's eyes, but with his last spark of energy, the blond wizard lifted his wand and whispered 'Caeucus', and suddenly all Harry could see was darkness.

He stumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to retrieve his vision. He'd never heard that spell, but could guess the effects. Still, no counter spell he uttered had any use. Blind and disoriented, Harry clambered around the tower, trying to find something that could help; the only relief was hearing the last breath of his attacker.

Harry waited beside the fallen wizard, listening for any sign of life, but Grindelwald was well and truly dead. Harry could feel the wizard's magic dissipating as he sat there, helpless and blind and alone.

He had no idea what he was going to do and wished he'd been more thorough with his explanations to Sirius. At least then he might be able to count on his Godfather finding him, but no. Harry had to warn the man that he wouldn't see him for days, if not weeks, and by then Harry would be starved to death. Although, maybe that was for the best if his Draco was gone.

Shaking his head, Harry stumbled in the direction of the cool wind. Draco wouldn't have wanted him to waste away like this. Harry had to get out of there somehow and at least try to find what Grindelwald had done with his lover's poor, broken body. Draco deserved to be remembered properly, and honored in death, as Harry had loved him in life.

Taking a deep breath, Harry eventually found the window and the braid and slowly, clumsily made his way to the ground. Only then, deprived of his richest sense, did Harry notice something he hadn't before. Draco's scent.

It was muddled with sweat and fear, but it was Draco for sure, Harry could never mistake the soft tones of spearmint and fresh linen. He had been here, in this very spot, and he'd been alive. Harry felt sure of it. Casting away everything else, Harry let his magic flow and it sought Draco's and locked onto it. The man was alive and he was close.

Harry stumbled through the forest all night, led only by the trail of Draco's magic. He cared very little where it took him so long as it eventually led him to his love. He would call out to the blond occasionally, hoping he was within earshot, but not until dawn did he get an answer.

His heart leapt when he heard the responding call, a questioning shout of his name in the air. "I'm here, Draco. I'm here!" he screamed back until he felt warm, insistent hands covering his face, pulling him into a delicious kiss. Harry was exhausted and sagged in Draco's arms, relishing in the feel of Draco's tongue and the taste of his lips.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Draco sobbed. "I've been lost out here all night, and just look at me!"

"I can't," Harry whispered, burying his face into the crook of Draco's neck.

"Am I so repulsive?" Draco asked, pulling sharply away and causing Harry to stumble.

"No!" Harry shouted, reaching his hand out and grasping only air. "I love you!"

"Oh, Merlin!" Draco whispered in horrified shock. "What's happened to you?"

"Grindelwald blinded me." He felt the warm embrace of his lover, trembling, naked and sobbing.

A rough laugh escaped Draco's lips as he pressed kisses against Harry's eyelids. "We're a perfect pair, aren't we? You're blind and I'm naked, lost and wandless."

"I can find our way home, Draco. I just need your help," Harry whispered. "I can lock onto Sirius' magic and lead us there, you just have to help me get through the forest."

"Of course," Draco sighed. "You're brilliant and I love you."

Harry chuckled and pulled his lover tighter, glad to be back in his arms despite the horrid circumstances.

"Grindelwald?" Draco rasped and Harry loosened his grip.

"Dead," Harry told him.

"At least there's that. Oh, Harry, the things he did, the things he could have done to me, it was horrible," he sobbed into Harry's throat, allowing himself to truly break down for the first time since leaving the tower. Harry just held him, stroking his short, soft hair as Draco sobbed into his shoulder. He wanted to kill Grindelwald all over again for what he'd done to Draco, but he supposed the once would have to suffice.

Besides, Draco was his now and forever and Harry would do everything he could to banish the older wizard's abuse from Draco's mind, and he knew he would have the rest of his life to try.

* * *

"Remus says this should work," Draco told him, holding the vial out to Harry and clasping the man's hands over it.

"He really likes you, you know," Harry replied softly. Draco's silence indicated a blush and even though Harry couldn't see it, the memory of those pinking cheeks still made him smile. Hopefully soon, it wouldn't just be a memory.

The potion in his hands was meant to cure him. Sirius, Remus and Draco worked on it tirelessly over the last few weeks, hoping to restore Harry's sight. In the end, it seemed it would be phoenix tears that would bring his sight back, and Harry felt immense gratitude toward the fiery bird he never even got to meet.

"I can't wait to see you again," Harry breathed.

"Well, I'm nothing without my looks," he teased. "So, drink up."

Harry swallowed the potion down and waited while Draco plied his eyelids, cheeks and jaw with tender, scruffy kisses. In some ways he'd miss the blindness. Making love to Draco without being able to see him had been hard at first, but once Harry got used to it, he found the rest of his senses heightened; the sex became even more amazing, something Harry hadn't thought possible before. Still, it was worth losing a little extra pleasure to be able to look upon his lover's beautiful face again. Besides, there were always blindfolds.

"Anything yet?" Draco asked, his voice caressing the shell of Harry's ear as his tongue followed the trail of his breath.

Harry shook his head, trying not to let worry set in. The blinding curse had been instantaneous, but that didn't mean the cure would be as well. He yelped as he felt Draco's nimble fingers removing his jumper and then raking back down. Harry was at the blond's mercy in his current state, forced to fumble around until he found what he wanted or wait for Draco to give it to him.

"Can I fuck you, Harry? I want you to feel me, all of me," Draco moaned into his ear, and even if the sound itself hadn't been completely erotic, the request would have done him in.

All he could do was make an incoherent approval noise as Draco unfastened Harry's trousers and his hot, wet mouth closed over his aching prick. Harry groaned as Draco swallowed him down, his spectacular tongue dancing along the throbbing, velvet flesh. "More," Harry breathed, and Draco eagerly obliged, taking him deeper and thrusting a slick finger into Harry's tight entrance at the same time.

Harry exploded into the blond's mouth without warning, the sensations too much to take. Screaming Draco's name, he only wished he could watch the blond milk him dry, it had always been such an intoxicating sight to see Draco lick his lips like a cat with too much cream.

A second finger breached him, and suddenly Harry felt dizzy with want as Draco replaced those fingers with something much thicker. Harry wrapped his legs around Draco's waist and pulled him in as deep as he could. He wanted him, all of him, and even though he couldn't see, Harry's eyes were forced shut from the bliss of being filled.

When Draco began to move, it still didn't feel like enough. "Harder," Harry gasped out. "Draco, yes!"

The blond's pace became frantic as their bodies slammed together over and over to a chorus of gasping moans. Harry's erection was completely renewed, as if he hadn't just come into his boyfriend's eager mouth only moments before. He arched into Draco's body, driving his delicious cock even deeper and screaming out as the head caressed that bundle of nerves deep within him. He came again without even being touched and he felt Draco follow rather promptly, emptying himself inside his lover's tight channel as it clenched around him, sucking out every last drop.

Glittering spots filled Harry's vision, and he opened his eyes in surprise. The room was glaringly bright, but he could make out his lover's slackened face and sweat soaked hair. He could clearly see the narrow expanse of pale flesh as Draco's chest heaved for breath.

"Just as beautiful as I remembered," Harry murmured, causing Draco's eyes to snap open, their mercurial magnificence boring straight into his heart.

"You can see?" he asked hesitantly.

"Every wondrous bit of you," Harry replied breathily, cut short by Draco's mouth closing over his own in a devouring kiss.

"Now you can take me flying!" Draco exclaimed when they pulled apart, and Harry chuckled at the boyish gleam in Draco's eyes.

"Right now?" Harry asked, one dark eyebrow quirked in question. Harry had been promising Draco that he'd take the blond out flying the moment he got his vision back, but the request still caught him off guard.

"Yes! Right now!" Draco answered, slipping out of him with a wet plop and flushing at the sound. "Well, I suppose we should clean up and get dressed first."

"What's the fun in that?" Harry asked, toppling his lover back to the bed. "I'll just have to undress you and dirty you up again."

"Mmmmm," Draco moaned as Harry assaulted his mouth, jaw and nipples. "Flying can wait."

* * *

"So, where is it we're going?" Draco asked impatiently for the seventh time. He was clinging to Harry waist, not because he was afraid of the dizzying heights or the zippy speed, but because he liked the feel of being pressed against Harry's back, his groin rutting into Harry's rear end with every dip and turn of the broom.

Flying seemed to come naturally to Draco, and often they rode on separate brooms so they could race to their destined spot, but Harry had been rather insistent that morning that Draco ride with him.

Again, Harry answered with the same 'You'll see' he'd answered the past seven times Draco had asked, and again the blond huffed in mild annoyance.

Harry had searched high and low for the perfect gift to celebrate his one-year anniversary with Draco. He was saving the engagement ring for later, knowing that Draco would think of it as a cop out to propose on their anniversary, simply for the fact that it would mean fewer occasions for presents. Draco was as high maintenance as Harry had expected of a boy who had been waited on hand and foot for his entire life, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He loved catering to Draco's every whim.

So, in trying to please his greedy lover, Harry went back to the tower where he'd first met the blond to look for some ideas. Draco had refused to set foot in his old chambers, requesting Harry bring him what belongings were still there and disposing of Grindelwald properly. Luckily, he'd searched the older wizard's robes before throwing them in the pyre. In the man's pockets he'd found several bits of parchment, none of them making sense until just a few months before.

As they neared a large, white manor, Harry slowed the broom and began his descent into the lush grounds surrounding the home.

What had always struck Harry as odd was why Grindelwald left for two long weeks, when according to Draco, the man had never missed a daily visit that he could recall. One night, in the dead of sleep, Harry woke up with a start and the puzzle pieces began shifting together right before his very eyes.

In Grindelwald's belongings was a note. It read simply 'I've found you and I want him back' and was signed 'L. Malfoy'.

After some digging, Harry found a Ludwig Malfoy, a Laura Malfoy and a Lucius Malfoy. He suspected that one of these people were Draco's true parents, but didn't want to get his lover's hopes up. In secret, Harry visited each one of the matching names and finally found whom he'd sought.

There, standing in the doorway, an expectant gleam in his eyes, was the man Harry had met just a few days before. Lucius Malfoy looked older than Harry knew his age to be, but he was clearly very happy to see them. At his side was his estranged wife, Narcissa, who bit into her bottom lip to hold back a sob the moment their feet touched the ground.

Harry learned that the couple had separated after Draco's kidnapping, but never divorced because Lucius refused to sign the papers. He promised his wife that he would rescue their son one day and hoped that Narcissa could finally forgive him once he did. Looking at them now, Harry hoped Lucius was right, for Draco's sake if nothing else.

"We're here," he whispered back to his boyfriend and he could feel Draco's confusion tensing and flexing around his waist.

"I don't understand. Where are we?" Draco asked, but Harry could tell by the quiver in his voice that some part of the blond already knew. Perhaps it was old, buried memories of his early childhood, or perhaps it was because even with age and the strain of searching for their son for nearly two decades that the Malfoys looked uncannily similar to his platinum blond love.

"Home," Harry said. "Or, one of them at least."

"Harry," Draco rasped, his grip on Harry tightening even though they were safely on the ground. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Draco," Harry turned to face his anxious lover, pressing a tender kiss into the corner of his mouth. "These are your parents. Your _rea_l parents. Their names are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and they've been looking for you for a very long time."

"But they're dead," Draco whispered, "Grindelwald told me so himself."

"He lied," Harry replied, smoothing Draco's hair away from his forehead. "He did so much to keep you all to himself. When he left for those two weeks, it was to silence Lucius once and for all, but your father was clever and hid from him, following Grindelwald back to the tower instead, only to find you gone."

A choked sob escaped Draco's throat as he looked from Harry to the proud blond wizard and the beautiful witch at his side. He swallowed thickly and Harry nodded, knowing what his lover wanted and needed. "Go to them."

Draco wasted no time asking twice and broke into a run, falling into his mother's open arms. Harry suppressed tears of his own as he watched the family reunite, turning away as he tried not to intrude on their intimate moment. Harry heard the entire story from Lucius himself, about how Draco came to be in Grindelwald's care. Harry hadn't told him of the abuse Draco was forced into at the end, but rather related some of the nicer stories Draco had told him of his time with the dark wizard.

If Draco wanted Lucius to know the full story, Harry would leave it for him to tell.

In truth, Draco had been mostly well cared for and well loved as Grindelwald's ward, only that love became a twisted, evil thing toward the end. None of that mattered now, however, because Draco was now free of his captor and reunited with his true family. Harry felt a pang of regret, knowing that Draco might prefer to stay with Lucius and Narcissa now that he'd found them. He could hardly blame his lover if that were the case. They had a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

His thoughts flittering over potential futures for he and his Draco, he hadn't noticed the blond in question beckoning him over until those gray eyes were only inches away from his own. "Are you coming in, Harry?"

"Oh," Harry yelped, startled by the man's seemingly sudden proximity. "I thought you might want to be alone with them. I could come back and pick you up later, if you like…or if you'd rather stay here, I completely understand," he blurted in a rush.

"Stay here? You mean, without you?" Draco asked, his nose scrunched up like an adorable bunny that thought Harry was utterly preposterous.

"Well, yeah," Harry muttered lamely, rubbing the back of his neck with his open palm.

"You were the one who set all this up, who gave me a gift so precious I could never begin to repay you," Draco breathed, grabbing Harry's hand and lacing their fingers together as one. "I want you by my side."

A slow smile crept across Harry's face as he placed a tender kiss on his lover's perfect mouth. "Draco, my Draco," Harry murmured against Draco's lips before they turned to follow the Malfoys inside.

"Yours," Draco sighed in return. "Always yours."

FIN

Author's Note: Well, that's the end and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. Coming next will be Princess and the Pea, Frog Prince, Beauty and the Beast and The Boy Who Cried Wolf.


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